


all the stones and kings of old

by extasiswings



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Political Intrigue, Soft Eddie Diaz, Unresolved Romantic Tension, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24566188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings
Summary: Edmundo Diaz, King of Calder, does not want a husband.He had a wife, he has a son.  He doesn’t need anyone to try and fill the void in his life Shannon left when she died—he is perfectly content with an empty bed, with Bobby and Athena advising him, with household staff taking care of Christopher when he can’t.But.  Apparently he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.(Theirs is not an auspicious start.)
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han
Comments: 568
Kudos: 812





	1. Aureum

**Author's Note:**

> I am easily enabled. Based on this tumblr post: https://buckleybegins.tumblr.com/post/617690326526787584/okay-if-youre-still-doing-the-au-thing-what

Evan Buckley, prince of Aureum, has always loved romance. As a child, he would hide in the library in the Golden Keep and read the fantastic histories of the kings and queens that came before—tales of knights and daring and magic, back before it faded away, of tournaments and songs and secret favors that stopped or started wars, brought kingdoms together or made them fall. When he learned how to use a sword, he used to imagine that he might one day rescue a princess, go off on a great quest and return with a bride—or a groom, really, he wasn’t terribly picky in his fantasies. But as he got older…well. 

There are no quests for successive heirs. The days when he doesn’t manage to sneak out of the castle are spent in diplomacy lessons and boring meetings and it’s perfectly clear after a few years that he’s no more than a pawn on a chessboard to his parents, a piece to be moved and sacrificed at whim. As for romance—

_“We can’t—”_

_“I’ll run away with you,” he promises. “We can leave, go anywhere you want—Abby—”_

_“Buck…”_

_“I love you.”_

_A sad smile. A kiss. A note on his pillow the next morning._

_“It’s not enough.”_

—he learns well enough that stories are just words on a page. 

Buck is twenty-seven when his father calls him to the throne room and informs him that he’s to be married. It’s not a request. He doesn’t get an opinion. He burns a little at that, but shoves the feeling aside. 

“Who is it?”

“The king of Calder.” Buck’s father can’t quite keep the distaste off of his face when he says it, and Buck bites his cheek. He’s never ascribed to the position of his parents that Aureum is superior to every other kingdom, but there’s at least some satisfaction that comes with knowing that if he’s being bartered away like a cow at market it’s because they’ve been forced to acknowledge that they actually need something from someone else for once. 

“When?”

“He arrives tomorrow to sign the trade agreement. You’ll be returning home with him at the end of the week. Your things are being packed.”

Buck swallows hard, itching to get away. A week. A week to get used to the idea of leaving the place he’s lived since he was born. A week to get comfortable with the idea of marrying a total stranger. A week to let go of any remaining fantasies that he’s in control of his life. 

God, he wants to break something.

“May I be excused?”

His father dismisses him with a wave of his hand. Buck goes up to the top of the keep and lets the wind carry off his frustration. By the time he goes to bed, he still doesn’t feel any better.

* * *

Edmundo Diaz, King of Calder, does not want a husband.

He had a wife, he has a son. He doesn’t need anyone to try and fill the void in his life Shannon left when she died—he is perfectly content with an empty bed, with Bobby and Athena advising him, with household staff taking care of Christopher when he can’t.

But. Apparently he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

_”It’s this or another war,”_ Bobby had said when the offer came in. And Eddie is sick of war. So…marriage it is.

Theirs is not an auspicious start.

“Who the hell is that?” 

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s not meant to hear that, as he carefully dismounts from his horse and takes off his helmet. On his other side, Eddie’s vaguely aware of Bobby swinging down from his own horse, but he’s more focused on where the exclamation came from. On the balcony across the courtyard, there’s a man who Eddie thinks looks about his age, if perhaps slightly younger.

Whoever he is, he’s glaring. At his side, a black woman in armor looks resigned and turns in, saying something that Eddie can’t hear. Whatever it is, the man’s jaw tightens before he turns on his heel and vanishes through the stone archway behind him.

Eddie looks over his shoulder at Bobby. “Been here less than five minutes and it looks like at least one person already hates me. That must be a new record.”

Bobby claps him on the shoulder and shakes his head in sympathy. “Let’s go in. Sooner we start all of this, the sooner we’ll be done.”

Eddie takes a breath and steels himself. Then, he pushes the glaring man out of his head, rolls his shoulders, and walks into the hall.

It takes hours to get through the mind-numbing formalities of meeting the king and queen. He doesn’t meet the prince and honestly, he’s grateful for that. There’s a limit to how much diplomacy he can manage in one day. 

He slips away as soon as he can, changing into more understated clothes, hoping he can just blend in as he follows the sound of clanging swords toward the training yard. Blessedly, no one seems to pay him any mind as he grabs a blunted sword and starts moving through his paces next to a target full of straw. The tension bleeds out of him as he focuses on footwork and the weight of a sword in his hand—

—at least until he turns and his slash at the air connects with steel with a clang. 

Eddie’s gaze shoots up to meet that of the man from before, who is, once again, glaring.

“Can I help you?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t pull his sword back, doesn’t turn away—even blunted steel can hurt and he knows better than to turn his back on a potential threat.

The man’s sword scrapes along his as he sizes Eddie up and Eddie steps back with the push instead of fighting it. 

“Spar with me.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think you want me to do that,” he replies.

“Why not? Scared, _your majesty_?” 

_Not for myself,_ Eddie thinks. It’s been years since he fought a stranger, but he still remembers far too easily what it’s like to be in a real battle, not a simulated spar in a training yard. It would be easy to slip back into that sense memory, fighting to stay alive rather than prove a point, and he doesn’t actually want to _hurt_ this man. But…they are using blunted swords…

Eddie allows his sword to drop, taking another step back as if he’s going to walk away, only to turn sharply and aim a cut at the man’s outer thigh. The man blocks it just in time.

“You have me at a bit of a loss,” Eddie says as they both adjust their feet. “Clearly you know who I am, but I don’t know you.”

The man feints to the left and slices at Eddie’s arm. The swords meet with a clang—Eddie steps in close instead of backing away, knocking the man off balance. 

“Don’t you?” 

They fall into a dance— _step, clang, reset, step, clang, reset_ —

“I really don’t.”

Their swords clash in the middle, scraping against each other, and it starts to take real effort to engage, Eddie’s muscles burning pleasantly. 

“Tell me,” the man says, his eyes flashing as he shoves hard and forces Eddie back, “a man like you—gotta say, you don’t look like the type who needs so much help that he has to include marriage as a condition of a trade agreement. You really couldn’t have asked for anything else?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. _Step, clang, reset._ “Not that it’s any of your business, but marriage was the last thing I wanted out of this. So wherever you’re getting your information, if you have an issue, you should take it up with someone a little closer to home.”

The man stumbles and Eddie takes the opportunity to sweep his legs out from under him, putting the man on his back and knocking the sword from his hand. Eddie kneels next to him, keeping one hand on the man’s shoulder, the other resting his own sword against the man’s neck. Blunted or not, it still leaves a mark when the man swallows hard.

“Yield?” Eddie asks.

Their eyes meet and hold—the anger in the other man’s dims into something indecipherable, and Eddie’s breath catches.

“I yield.”

Eddie sits back on his heels and offers a hand, but the man shrugs it off, preferring to get himself up. Eddie can’t help asking again—

“Who—”

“Prince Evan!”

“Buck!”

A page and the same knight from the balcony call out at the same time and Eddie’s head snaps to the other man—the prince, his godforsaken _betrothed_ —and he wants to swear. Bobby is on the other side of the yard as well, his arms crossed. Eddie scrambles to his feet.

“Your highness—”

“Pretty sure _you_ don’t have to call me that,” Evan—Buck?—replies. He won’t look at Eddie.

“Evan—”

“If you’ll excuse me. I’m sure we’ll see one another at dinner.” And then he’s gone and Eddie—Eddie isn’t sure what to think. Except that clearly he isn’t the only one who doesn’t want to get married. 

He’d been assuming the Buckleys were all the same, that whatever the king and queen were like, with all their pretention and snide remarks, the prince would be that way as well, that the prince just wanted to be someone’s consort. But if that’s not the case…

Eddie swipes a hand over his face, uncaring of the dirt and sweat. Fuck.

“So that’s the prince,” he remarks when Bobby crosses the yard.

“That’s the prince.”

“He hates me.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally.”

_Fuck_ , indeed.

* * *

“So that went well.”

Buck rubs at his forehead and brings his hand up to run through his hair before he glances over at Hen. 

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Did I enjoy watching you get your ass kicked? Little bit,” she acknowledges. “Am I enjoying the fact that you’re getting shipped off to marry someone you don’t love? No.”

They start up the staircase to his chambers and Buck lets silence fall between them. His neck stings faintly where the edge of the sword kissed it and his back smarts where he hit the ground, but really it’s his pride that’s injured the most. The way the king had looked at him…

_Marriage was the last thing I wanted out of this._

It’s one thing to marry a stranger for political reasons. He was prepared to hate it and do it anyway because that’s how things work in their world—politics, not love. He was prepared to give up on love. But to not even be _wanted_? 

Buck thought he could at least count on that. 

He’s been off-balance all day, ever since the king arrived. The only thing he remembers about Calder is that for most of his life it seemed to always be at war, kings and queens changing too quickly to keep track. After awhile, he stopped paying attention. But he assumed the king would be…older. That there would be a reason for doing everything this way, with no courtship, no correspondence, nothing. 

But from the minute Buck saw him…well. 

(It’s much easier to hate him than to admit Buck finds him attractive.)

“I’m going to have to apologize, aren’t I?” Buck sighs when they get to his door.

Hen hums and tips her head. “Well, you are marrying him so…probably better to start off on a…slightly better foot than whatever that was earlier.”

Dammit. 

“Thanks. I’ll…think about it.”

Buck doesn’t get the chance at dinner—they’re both on entirely opposite sides of the table—but after—

He bites his cheek and takes a breath, swearing internally before he forces himself to walk down the hall.

“Your majesty.” Buck catches the king and his advisors by the staircase up to the guest quarters.

“You don’t have to call me that,” the king replies quietly as the other two depart, leaving them alone. “Eddie is fine. Preferred, actually.”

Buck swallows. “Eddie. I, uh—I wanted to say…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Evan,” Eddie says. “I get it.”

And once again, Buck is thrown. He was expecting…someone like his father, someone hardened and stuck up, someone who expects to be catered to. But Eddie doesn’t seem to be anything like that. 

Clearly, Buck needs to readjust his expectations. 

“Buck,” he offers. “Most people—friends—they call me Buck.”

“Buck,” Eddie repeats. “Okay.” His mouth quirks up a fraction as he looks away and then back before he adds, “You know, you’re not half-bad with a sword.”

Buck’s startled enough to laugh. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” Eddie glances over him, a considering look in his eyes. “Look…I didn’t ask for this, and I’m assuming from earlier that you didn’t either, but I’d like to…get to know you. If that’s alright with you.”

He extends a hand and Buck takes it, shaking once. Eddie’s fingers are warm and his eyes less wary than earlier and Buck’ s stomach twists with…something…before he lets go. 

“I’d like that.” Buck’s almost surprised to realize how much he means it. 

“You know—I wouldn’t mind sparring again tomorrow,” Eddie suggests. His eyes spark with mischief. “Maybe I could teach you something.”

“Oh, yeah?” Buck grins. “Or maybe you’ll be the one who ends up on his back next time.”

Eddie laughs, dark and low, and it sends a pleasant shiver down Buck’s spine. “Maybe…you can certainly try.”

“Oh, I will.”

_Maybe_ , Buck thinks as he walks away. _Maybe he’s not so bad._

* * *

Eddie doesn’t sleep well.

By all accounts he should—he starts his mornings in the training yard with Bobby and Buck and Buck’s right-hand knight Hen, then goes onto hours of meetings with the king and council and Athena—by the end of every day he’s exhausted.

But he doesn’t sleep well.

He misses Christopher. He misses his son. And he worries—he hasn’t been away for this long in years, and certainly not since Shannon died. 

He misses his wife. 

Especially because when he does sleep…

_“Maybe you’ll be the one who ends up on his back next time.”_

_“Maybe…you can certainly try.”_

_Buck on his back in the training yard, a sword at his throat, eyes dark as he tips his head back baring his neck further—_

_Buck in his bed, bare skin under Eddie’s hands, his mouth—_

Eddie wakes up hot, his skin feeling too tight for his body, prickling all over. It’s probably not that surprising—Buck’s attractive and Eddie’s been pleasantly surprised by how much he enjoys his company and he hasn’t been with anyone in over a year—and goodness knows there are worse things than being attracted to the man he’s supposed to marry. But it’s still—

It feels wrong. Intrusive. Because Buck doesn’t want him, doesn’t want to be getting married—Eddie’s subconscious may not understand that when he’s asleep, but he’s only too aware in the waking hours. 

God…he misses his wife.

The night before their last full day in Aureum—the night before the _wedding_ , although from what Eddie can tell that’s meant to be more or less the two of them signing their names to a paper in front of the full court rather than anything he would think of as a wedding—Eddie doesn’t retire to his rooms after dinner. Instead, he slips away from the watchful eyes of Bobby and Athena and goes up and up and up—climbing stairs with no real purpose other than to go somewhere he won’t have to be around other people, somewhere he can breathe and think and at least attempt to relax the tension that’s been building up in every line of him. His aimless wandering leads him to a library, empty but for the scrolls and books on the shelves, and there are heavy doors that open into another staircase, one that winds and twists until it reaches a small, private alcove with a window that offers a clear view of the dark expanse of the sky and the lights of the city below. It’s exactly the sort of sanctuary Eddie had been hoping to find.

So of course, it’s already occupied. 

Eddie doesn’t notice at first, distracted by the view immediately when he steps in. But then there’s the clearing of a throat and he jumps and turns to see Buck stretched out on the floor with his back against the wall, a flask of wine in his hand. The flush in his cheeks tells Eddie that he’s probably been drinking for awhile.

“Well met, your majesty,” Buck says, and Eddie nearly winces at the retreat to formality. Buck doesn’t seem angry, but there’s a melancholy that lingers in the air around him.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie replies. “I didn’t mean to intrude—I can go—”

Buck waves his free hand dismissively at the thought and holds out the wine. “It’s fine. Sit. Drink. I don’t mind.”

Eddie takes the offered flask and slides down the wall to sit next to him, taking a long swallow in the silence that follows. Despite his admission the first night that he would like to get to know Buck, they still haven’t really talked about anything meaningful or spent any real time alone together—their bouts in the training yards have been enjoyable, but are limited in what they can achieve. But he also doesn’t know how to begin. He’s never been particularly adept at making friends—in war, everyone on your side is a friend by necessity, comrades in arms, but he’s no longer in a war. 

And now, he’s also a king. Which…doesn’t make it easier.

He’s grateful when Buck speaks.

“This is my favorite place in the castle.” Buck reaches out for the flask and Eddie passes it back. “I found it by accident when I was…ten, maybe? Used to come up here and just sit for hours, staring out that window. People knew to look for me in the library, but no one ever bothered me here. It’s the one place I can really think when all the—the royalty nonsense gets to be too much.”

“I get that,” Eddie says quietly. _The royalty nonsense_ …yeah, that about sums it up. 

“Yeah?” Buck asks. “Do you have a place like this in Calder? Because, you know, you might have to share.”

He offers the wine and Eddie takes it again, his tongue coming out to wet his lips before he drinks as he considers the question.

“Not a place so much as—as a person,” he replies. “My son. People tend not to bother me as much when I’m spending time with him, especially since his mother passed. And being with him—those are some of the only times lately that I feel…”

“Normal?”

Eddie takes another drink and nods. “At least you grew up in this world.” He raises a hand in acknowledgment when it looks like Buck is going to argue. “I’m not saying that makes it any less…what it is…I’m only—it’s been a steep learning curve for me, that’s all.”

“What was your life like before?”

Eddie lets his head fall back against the wall. He doesn’t look over at Buck, but stares unfocused out at the view as he bites his cheek. 

“You don’t have to answer,” Buck adds. “I just thought—”

“My father was a sailor on a merchant ship,” Eddie interrupts. “My mother and I were comfortable enough, but nowhere close to wealthy. And then, when I was maybe twelve or so, the wars started. The first king died and the royal family went to pieces, caring more about who had the best claim to the throne than the fact that people were dying because other kingdoms wanted more farmland or lumber or whatever else. It didn’t really matter—whenever someone new seized the throne, it didn’t seem to last long.”

“When I was sixteen, I met my wife. Became a soldier because I knew I wanted to marry her, but wasn’t very good at anything but fighting…I was gone for two years the first time. We got married when I came back, but I left again not long after—”

_“I’m pregnant.”_

_“What do you want me to do, Shannon? We need this—”_

_“We don’t. I don’t. I just need you—stay with me, Eddie. Stay with me and help me raise our child.”_

_“I—”_

Eddie drains the rest of the flask and sets it aside. “—the specifics don’t really matter, but a few years later, the wars ended, the royal family was no more, and people were calling me a hero. They wanted me to be their king, and I didn’t—I couldn’t say no. So. Here we are.”

“Your wife—?”

“Was a much better queen than I am a king,” Eddie admits. “It all seemed to come so naturally to her.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says quietly. “For your loss.”

Eddie swallows hard and finally looks over. Buck looks nothing but genuine, his face solemn and open. Eddie’s gotten so used to dishonesty in the past several years, to games and tricks and schemes from almost everyone, but he doesn’t see any of that in Buck. It’s…refreshing. He blames that and his own curiosity for the question that trips off his tongue next.

“Have you ever been in love?”

A shadow passes over Buck’s face and he looks away. 

“Once,” Buck replies. 

“What happened?”

“I’m a prince, is what happened.” The bitterness shines through Buck’s voice. “She was older, untitled—my parents never would have approved, but I didn’t care. I wanted to marry her anyway, run away and leave everything behind and start over—she didn’t. She, uh, she left. About a year ago. There hasn’t been anyone else since.”

Something hot and protective shoots through him at that—righteously angry on Buck’s behalf because even now Eddie can see the longing, the devotion, the pain of shattered dreams written in the set of Buck’s jaw, the downcast eyes, the bitten lip. Maybe Eddie’s only known Buck for a week, but he can already tell that Buck is good and kind and real and he can’t even imagine—who was this woman that she could walk away from that so easily?

The next instant, guilt drops into his stomach like a stone. Because they’re getting married and neither of them have a choice and Eddie doesn’t care as much for himself—he had his own great love—but Buck deserves the chance to love someone and be loved in return and even though Eddie knows it isn’t his _fault_ , he still feels like he’s taking something away from Buck.

“You know,” Eddie says before he can stop himself, “I don’t expect—what I mean is, if you wanted—if you were to find someone that you—”

Buck’s gaze snaps back to his. Suddenly, he looks far more sober than he had a few moments prior, and upset as well.

“Are you trying to say I have your permission to have an affair?” There’s an edge to the question that makes Eddie want to flinch, a clear warning that they might well have a problem if the answer is anything other than no. 

Eddie takes a breath and runs a hand through his hair.

“I only meant—I want you to be happy. That’s all.”

_You could make him happy_ , a voice whispers in the back of his mind. Eddie shoves it aside.

Buck looks at him for a long moment, eyes still sharp. He opens his mouth, closes it, then finally says—

“Having an affair isn’t going to make me happy. We may be getting married because of politics, and yeah, it may not have been my choice, but it’s still a marriage. That means something and I plan on respecting it. And frankly, if I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have needed anyone’s _permission_ but my own.”

Eddie inclines his head in acknowledgment. “Of course. Forgive me—I meant no offense.”

But, whatever moment they’d been having has clearly been broken. Buck picks up the empty wine flask and gets to his feet.

“It’s late,” he says. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day after all.”

“Buck—”

“Good night, Eddie.”

Eddie bites back a swear and thumps his head against the wall. Hell of a way to start off a marriage. Somewhere, he thinks Shannon must be laughing at him.

* * *

It is not a storybook wedding. 

The full court is assembled with the exception of his sister, the future queen, Maddie, who has been away for a month with one of her many suitors—Buck knows she would have returned immediately if she’d been told he was getting married, so he files away another pang of resentment at their parents for the assumed slight. But even with a crowd, it’s…impersonal. Signatures on a page and declarations of titles, a too-polished speech from his father about unity and a new chapter in the relationship between their two kingdoms. Political theater, nothing more. Honestly, Buck is pretty sure it all could have happened without him and Eddie even being in the room. 

Buck wonders, as he looks across the dais at Eddie, what Eddie’s first wedding was like. Did he drape his late wife in his family colors and exchange rings in a church? Or maybe theirs was even simpler—a handfasting with colored ribbons and twine? Either way, Buck is sure it was very different. 

After all, the last time Eddie did this, he was in love. Still is, as far as Buck could tell from the night before. 

It’s stupid—he has no right to it—but he feels almost jealous of Eddie’s wife. It’s not that Buck begrudges Eddie still being in love with her, or even that he wants Eddie to love _him_ —that would be ridiculous, they’ve only just met—but he wishes he could have _something_. A husband who at the very least gives a damn that they are, in fact, married. 

_“If you wanted—if you were to find someone that you—”_

Buck still feels sick thinking about it. Like it was a door slammed in his face, a slap, a clear sign that as far as Eddie is concerned, not only are they not currently anything, but that they never will be. In all his years of being told that if he ended up with an arranged marriage instead of a love match, he and his spouse would _grow to love each other_ , he never anticipated being told that he should feel free to find love elsewhere. Even knowing Eddie only had good intentions doesn’t make him feel better about it. 

_“I want you to be happy,”_ Eddie had said. And all Buck had been able to think in his wine-soaked haze, with his bleeding romantic heart, was, _but what if I want to be happy with you?_

Buck hardly remembers the feast—he’s not paying attention, stuck in his head. He’s leaving in the morning and his head is a mess and he doesn’t have it in himself to flatter and smile and gossip with random courtiers who would probably stab him in the back for another estate. 

He’s tired. And upset for reasons he doesn’t even fully understand. And—

“Shall we send the happy couple off to bed?” 

—Buck snaps to attention at that, unable to place the drunken voice, but nonetheless feeling like he’s been dashed with ice water at the suggestion. Not because he’s inherently opposed—oh no, spending the past several mornings on swordplay with Eddie has led to any number of fantasies because Buck has eyes and Eddie is attractive and very good with a sword—but he feels Eddie freeze at his side, and when he glances over, Eddie looks paler than usual.

Buck shoves back his chair, plastering on a wide smile as he takes Eddie’s hand. 

“I think we’re more than capable of seeing ourselves off—but we thank you for the kind suggestion. Please—everyone, stay. Enjoy the festivities. But as we do have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow, we’ll take our leave.”

It’s abrupt, and Buck can acknowledge it’s definitely not his best work, but no one follows when he pulls Eddie out the door with him, so he’ll take it.

“Sorry,” he says, dropping Eddie’s hand like a hot iron as soon as they’re far enough up the staircase that they can’t be seen any longer. “I, um, hadn’t thought about…”

Unpleasantly, the memory of one of his diplomacy instructors rears its head. _If the marriage isn’t consummated, it’s like it never happened at all._

Eddie clears his throat and rubs at the back of his neck. “No, me neither.”

They keep going up the stairs. Eddie seems to be avoiding his eyes. 

Buck bites his lip, keeping the silence until they end up at his chamber door. 

“Eddie—” _Do you want—_

“I would never want to do anything to make you uncomfortable,” Eddie stammers out. “And I’m not—this isn’t—I mean, we both know what this is. Right?”

It’s a little unfair, Buck thinks, that even the things you know or should have known are coming, can still hurt so much. He tries not to linger over the sting of rejection, but it still smarts.

“So what you’re saying is…let’s not and say we did?” Buck clarifies, and Eddie’s face immediately floods with relief. 

“Exactly.”

Buck schools his own face and nods. “Right. Yeah, no. Of course.” 

_He doesn’t want you. Abby didn’t want you and she actually knew you—why would he?_

“I’ll see you in the morning then?”

“Bright and early,” Buck agrees. “I’m sure you’re looking forward to getting home to your son.”

Eddie smiles at that—the first genuine smile Buck’s seen from him all day. “I am. Very much.”

“Well…I love kids, so I’m looking forward to meeting him.” That, at least, is the truth.

“I love this one,” Eddie replies. He steps back. “Sleep well, Buck.”

“Same to you.”

Buck definitely doesn’t watch him walk away. And later, when he’s lying in bed, he definitely doesn’t spend several hours staring at the ceiling, aching for no reason over the empty space next to him in the bed.


	2. On the Road

It’s several days from Aureum to Calder, a mix of land and water travel. The carriages with most of their things went ahead of them to save time—Eddie would rather not be bogged down unnecessarily and he’s used to traveling light as it is. Buck also doesn’t seem to have a problem with their pace for which Eddie is grateful. He doesn’t want Buck to be uncomfortable, but the closer they get to his home, the more Eddie feels an itch under his skin that says he should press ahead, ride all night if he must, strike out on his own and leave everyone else behind.

He won’t—that would be rude and Athena would kill him—but he wants to. He wants to be back in familiar space where things make sense, where he doesn’t feel like he’s doing something wrong with every step (maybe only half of them). 

Buck has been oddly…distant with him since the wedding. Since their night in the library when Eddie really put his foot in it, since the wedding night that wasn’t—Eddie hadn’t wanted to push, to ask, even if some piece of him wants Buck, he would sooner have cut his own hand off than touch someone who was only allowing it because they felt obligated. The last thing he wanted was to look Buck in the eyes and see reluctance or, god forbid, resentment. So.

_“Let’s not and say we did?”_

He’d been so relieved at the time, but it’s been a few days and Buck’s spent most of his time with his knight Hen who elected to come with them or with Bobby—when they’ve spoken it’s mainly been in passing. And Eddie…doesn’t know what to do about it. How to fix it. What to say. 

It doesn’t help that Athena hasn’t stopped watching Buck practically since they first got on the road. 

“You don’t like him,” Eddie says quietly on the fourth night, sitting down next to her, their backs against a tree as they make camp in a forest for the evening. There’s a fire going a several feet away, and on the other side of it, Buck is smiling, gesturing wildly with his hands as he tells some story or other. Hen is laughing, Bobby is smiling—Athena just looks suspicious.

“I don’t _dislike_ him,” she clarifies, her voice equally low. “As a person he seems just fine, and Hen thinks highly of him, and her I like. But I don’t trust him.”

“Why not?”

Athena raises an eyebrow and looks over at Eddie. “Nothing about this has seemed strange to you? Nobody _needed_ a marriage here, but his family insisted on one anyway—threatened a war to get it—when they could have made any other match to someone who doesn’t already have an heir. It doesn’t make sense.”

Eddie looks back across the fire at Buck, his stomach twisting. He thinks about flashing eyes and bitterness that first day in the training yard, quiet apologies by the stairs, confessions in a library—no. He doesn’t believe it. Buck is genuine, Buck is good. Eddie knows fake and opportunistic and Buck…isn’t that. 

“It’s not him,” he says finally. “If there’s anything going on, if anything is wrong—he’s not involved.”

“With all due respect, Eddie, you don’t know him,” Athena points out.

“No,” Eddie acknowledges. “But…I trust him.”

He thinks about the library again, the hurt, the offense on Buck’s face, of _that means something and I plan on respecting it_. No, Buck is good. 

“With your life? With Christopher’s life?”

Eddie flinches and looks away. His own, yes. Christopher’s…Christopher is Christopher. That’s a much more difficult question.

“What’s done is done,” he replies. “We’re already married—we can’t change it now. What do you want me to do, lock him in a dungeon until we can make absolutely certain that there’s nothing wrong? I’m sure that would go over really well.”

Athena sighs and looks across the fire again.

“Just be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“What does Bobby have to say about it?” Eddie asks. That earns him a wry smile.

“Bobby’s an idealist,” she replies. “That’s why you also have me.”

Athena reaches out and squeezes his shoulder before getting to her feet. As Eddie watches, she crosses over to Bobby, her hand sliding casually against his waist before she leans up to say something in his ear. When Bobby turns back to Buck and Hen, he’s clearly making his excuses—sure enough, he turns and walks off a moment later, slipping his hand into Athena’s as they go.

Eddie can’t help a small smile. At least some people clearly know how to be happy. 

When he looks back, Buck is glancing over at him—when their eyes meet, they hold for just a moment. But when Eddie starts to get up, Buck walks away. 

So much for that.

* * *

“You know,” Hen says when she enters the tent, “you could go sleep with your husband. His tent is bigger than mine.”

Buck makes a face and shifts his bedroll over to give her more space. “He doesn’t want to share with me.”

“And you know that because you’ve asked, or you’re assuming because it gives you a reason to keep avoiding him?”

Buck bites his cheek. Hen hums. “Thought so.”

“This is insubordination,” he grumbles.

She stretches out on the other side of the tent, looking entirely unconcerned, and shrugs. “Feel free to reassign me—I can go join Chimney on Maddie’s detail.” 

Buck huffs a laugh. They both know he never would—they’ve known each other for too long, been friends for too long, and she’s the only ally he’s got. He wouldn’t trade having her with him for anything. 

“How’s that going?” He asks. “I haven’t heard from her since she left for the Kendall estate. Starting to wonder if I should be worried.”

A strange look passes over Hen’s face, but she shakes her head. “He sent me a raven at the beginning of last week—didn’t sound terribly impressed with the duke and didn’t think Maddie was either, but nothing’s wrong as far as I know. From what I can tell, she’s not in danger from anything besides an arranged marriage of her own.”

Buck almost asks how Chim feels about that—the fact that the knight is in love with his sister isn’t a secret as far as he’s concerned, Buck’s observed their relationship with a certain amount of interest since he came into their lives five years previously—but he also doesn’t think it’s his place. Hen and Chim are best friends, Buck knows that. He doesn’t want to insert himself and invade their privacy. He knows there are things that he tells Hen that he would rather not have shared with anyone else. So. He doesn’t.

“Hope not,” he says instead. “Kendall’s always been a smarmy prick. She can do better.”

Hen snorts. “No argument here. Nice try changing the subject though—do you really not want to talk about why you’re avoiding spending time with your husband?”

Buck sighs and stares straight up, putting his hands behind his head. The thing is, he knows it’s stupid. He and Eddie can be friends—should be friends—there’s nothing wrong with that, nothing bad, nothing lesser about it. And Buck does want to be Eddie’s friend, if nothing else.

He’s just…struggling a little bit with putting the idea of ever being anything else behind him. 

“He told me I should have an affair,” Buck confesses. “Because he _wants me to be happy_.” 

Hen takes that in, silence stretching on. Finally, she sighs and mutters something under her breath that Buck thinks sounds like _men_.

“Well, I suppose he gets points for being…weirdly considerate if unsuccessful in the execution?” 

Buck manages a laugh despite himself. “I just…don’t know what to say to him, Hen. I’ve spent my whole life being told what to do, what to say, what to expect from certain things, certain people, and Eddie’s—he’s nothing like I expected. He didn’t grow up in this world, he doesn’t follow the script, and it’s _refreshing_ , but it’s also…” He trails off.

“I know the two of you were forced into doing things backwards,” Hen acknowledges. “But is it the worst thing to have to now take some time to get know each other like normal people?”

_Well, when she puts it that way…_

“What if—” Buck chews on his lip. _What if he never wants me?_

He doesn’t finish the thought, but Hen makes a surprised noise as though she’s heard it anyway. 

“A week ago, you didn’t like him. Didn’t want him to like you. Things changed that much?”

“Yeah. I guess they did.”

“Well…” Hen tips her head, considering. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you should sell yourself short. And there are worse places to start from than someone wanting you to be happy, not matter how stupid their suggestions might be.”

“You might be right.”

“Of course I’m right. Now go to sleep before I really do kick you out to go sleep with your husband.”

“Thanks, Hen.”

“Mmhmm.”

* * *

Eddie plans to talk to Buck in the morning. He really does. He wants to apologize again, to clear the air, to start fresh—or at least to make an attempt at it. 

He doesn’t work up to it in the morning. But by the afternoon, he’s resolved. Despite usually riding up in the front with Bobby, but he falls back, pulling up next to Buck.

“Afternoon.”

Buck’s eyes widen in surprise—at his side, Hen muffles a laugh for reasons Eddie doesn’t understand before pulling away to guide her horse up alongside Athena’s. 

“Uh—hey.”

“I—” Eddie rubs the back of his neck and looks away, trying to come up with what to say. But when he does, out of the corner of his eye he catches a shadow and the glint of sunlight on metal. It’s not even a conscious thought to tumble off his horse, reaching out to pull Buck off of his as well, both of them wincing as they hit the dirt.

“Eddie, what—” The arrow hits the tree across from where they just were with a splitting crack. Buck inhales sharply and scrambles to his feet, his hand going to his sword.

“Bobby!” Eddie shouts. That’s all the time they get before another arrow hits the ground in front of him and several men appear out of the trees, faces covered, with swords and knives of their own. 

Eddie snaps into action, letting himself sink into instinct. He slashes at the closest attacker, vaguely aware of Buck at his back, focused on an assailant on his own side. The entire area descends into shouts, clanging metal, the twang of Athena’s bow—Eddie hisses when a stray blow catches his arm, drawing blood, but he forces his assailant back. He tries not to let the injury throw him, pulling a knife from its sheath for added protection as he blocks a blow from the left.

“Eddie!” He whirls around at Buck’s shout, just in time to see Buck run a man through who was only inches from digging a knife into Eddie’s back. Eddie catches Buck’s eyes, both of them breathing hard, and nods once in thanks before spinning away again. A few minutes later, he returns the favor, hitting a man sneaking up on Buck in the back of the head with the hilt of his sword.

Soon enough, it’s all over, bleeding men all around, scattered weapons everywhere. Buck looks like he must have been hit in the face at some point, because he has a split lip that’s bleeding sluggishly and a scrape on his cheek.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, grabbing Buck’s shoulder and glancing him over. Buck looks around, runs his tongue along his teeth, wincing when the cut on his lip opens wider and drips blood down his chin. 

“I’m fine,” Buck replies, sounding breathless. “Fuck—what was _that_?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Highway robbers? No fucking clue. But you were—” _You saved my life._ “You can have my back any day.”

Buck flushes. “Yeah, well—you were also—or, you could have mine.”

Eddie looks over to where Bobby, Athena, and Hen are clustered, and catches Bobby’s eyes.

_We’re fine_ , he tries to say. Bobby nods. 

Buck’s hand reaches out to Eddie’s torn sleeve, his thumb glancing over the cut. It comes away bloody. His throat works. He pulls Eddie over to the closest tree and tugs them both down to sit.

“You’re hurt.” 

“It’s just a scratch,” Eddie assures. “I would have had a hell of a lot more to worry about than this if it hadn’t been for you.”

“I was just—” Buck goes pale. “I killed someone. I’ve never—”

Fuck, Eddie knows how that feels too. 

“Hey.” He slides his hand around the back of Buck’s neck and squeezes gently. “You saved me. You _saved_ me. Okay?”

Buck shudders an inhale and Eddie presses his forehead to Buck’s and breathes until their breathing matches and evens out. 

Buck clears his throat roughly when he finally pulls away. “Thanks.”

Eddie rips off a strip of his torn sleeve to use as a handkerchief.  
“Here, let me—” Eddie reaches out with the fabric to stem the flow of blood from Buck’s split lip, trying to tamp down on the spike of heat in his stomach at the intimacy of it. Buck’s lips part, his eyes going dark—Eddie passes the cloth over the cut once, twice, until it comes away clean, but he doesn’t pull away completely, his thumb resting at the corner of Buck’s mouth. 

He’s familiar with this feeling, the flood of adrenaline during a fight, the restless energy that comes after. He wants to lean forward and close the distance, to pull Buck’s lip between his teeth and tug, to taste his blood on his tongue. He wants to bite and claw and snatch, to combine _thank you_ with _thank god we’re alive_ , to leave marks on Buck’s skin that make both of them think of pleasure instead of violence, he wants—

God, he wants. 

Buck’s tongue comes out to wet his lips and Eddie barely holds back a shiver when it catches the edge of his thumb. He starts to pull his hand back—Buck grabs his wrist, keeping it in place as his eyes flutter closed. Eddie stops breathing. 

Fuck. 

The moment hangs, suspended in time, and Eddie doesn’t move an inch waiting to see what Buck wants. After what seems like an eternity, Buck exhales shakily and sits back, a flush climbing up his neck as he releases Eddie.

“Thanks.” Buck’s voice is a rasp, like his lungs are full of smoke, and Eddie knows it’s not because of him, it’s the situation, they’re both just keyed up, but fuck, he wants to make Buck sound like that more. He wants it panted into his ear, wants Buck fucked out and begging—the strength of the thought makes him swallow hard and look away. 

It’s just the situation. Biology. Nothing more. He knows Buck doesn’t—he wouldn’t—

“I’m going to check in with Bobby and Athena,” Eddie says, pushing himself up to standing. He needs space. He needs to think. 

“Eddie—” Buck starts, only to cut himself off with a shake of his head. “No, sorry, nevermind.” 

Eddie takes a step, then pauses and looks back over his shoulder. “We’ll talk more later, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

* * *

Buck spends the rest of the day in a haze. Hen came over to him when Eddie left and examined him with a critical eye, cataloguing all of his injuries. The cut on his lip and the scrape on his face are the most obvious, but someone also got off a lucky blow with a knife on the back of his thigh that isn’t deep but does sting. 

But the physical things aren’t really the point. He feels shaky and out of sorts, like he wants to throw up or cry or he doesn’t know what. He keeps replaying the moment in his head—turning to see someone aiming a knife at Eddie, lunging with his sword—it was instinct. It happened so fast. He would do it again because it was Eddie, because Buck was saving his life.

But it—fuck—it shouldn’t be that simple. 

And then, there had been that moment with Eddie, when Eddie touched him like—

God, Buck wanted to combust. Still wants to combust just thinking about it. Eddie’s thumb on his mouth, against his tongue, Eddie’s gaze hot and dark and looking like he wanted to consume someone.

And Buck desperately wanted to be consumed.

Still wants. Fuck. 

He’s twisted up entirely in knots.

Despite the ambush, once they manage to collect themselves, they make good time on to the harbor. Hen sticks to Buck’s side like glue, for which he’s grateful. But when he steps onto the ship that will take them the rest of the way to Calder, it’s Athena that steps in front of him. 

“Counselor Grant,” Buck stammers out. What? He finds her intimidating.

Athena raises an eyebrow and looks him up and down, the barest hint of a smile playing at the edges of her mouth.

“I saw what you did earlier,” she remarks. She looks back up to meet his eyes. “And I think…perhaps I was wrong about you, Prince. You can call me Athena, if I can call you Buck.”

Buck blinks. “I—yeah. I’d like that.”

Athena holds out her hand and Buck grips it tightly, feeling like he’s passed a test he didn’t even know he was taking. 

“Thank you for looking out for him.”

Buck glances over her shoulder at where Eddie is standing with Bobby at the bow of the ship. His stomach twists. 

“He’s—he’s a good man. And I was there. Anyone would have done the same.”

“Not everyone,” Athena says. She graces him with a real smile before she turns and walks away. 

It’s not until later that night that Buck manages to catch up with Eddie again. He’s standing at the ship’s railing, looking across the water, when—

“Hey.”

Buck jumps.

“Sorry,” Eddie says quietly, leaning against the rail next to him. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Feeling. If you’re—I know you haven’t done that a lot.”

“Get attacked by bands of armed men while minding my own business on the road? No, I haven’t done that a lot,” Buck deflects.

“Buck.” It’s soft. Buck closes his eyes as Eddie’s hand slides against his.

“Does it get easier?” He asks.

“Yes. And no,” Eddie admits. “But you shouldn’t—” He looks away and wets his lips.

“I shouldn’t…” Buck prompts.

Eddie looks back. “You shouldn’t want it to get easier. Because when it does…that means you’ve lost something of yourself. Ending a life shouldn’t feel easy. Even if it was the right thing, even if it was necessary.”

Buck can’t help himself—he steps in to press his shoulder and arm against Eddie’s, nearly shuddering at the contact. Fuck, he’s so starved for it—not just from Eddie, but from anyone, has been since Abby left really—that even that little bit makes him ache. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before leaning further into it. 

“What do you need?” Eddie asks. 

_I don’t want to think._ Buck wants to be distracted, wants to be touched, wants to be held. He wants Eddie’s hand on the back of his neck again, grounding him. He wants to feel settled. To feel good.

He doesn’t say that. He thinks maybe, under the circumstances, Eddie might actually give him whatever he asked for, but that’s not—that wouldn’t be—

Buck thinks back to their wedding night, to the look of panic on Eddie’s face at the idea of sleeping with him. 

No, he isn’t going to ask for any of that. 

“Just…tell me something?” Buck says instead. “Anything.”

Eddie tips his head, staring out at the water. “Before I left, Christopher asked me if I thought dogs know that they’re dogs.”

It’s not anywhere close to what Buck had expected to come out of Eddie’s mouth, and it startles him into a laugh.

“What?”

Eddie laughs as well and shrugs with the shoulder not pressed against Buck’s. “I don’t know—kids. They’re just like that.”

“He sounds sweet.”

Eddie nods. “He is. He’s—when the wars ended, I was not in a good place. In my head. I wasn’t—well, that’s not really important, but he kept me going even when I couldn’t do it myself. He’s always smiling, always happy, never feels sorry for himself, and I would give him…anything, honestly.”

“Think he’ll like me?” It’s partly a joke, but there’s a weight to it as well that cuts through any levity. Eddie looks back to him.

“You know, when I left, I told him that when I came home I would have someone with me—I thought he would have a lot of questions, maybe be upset about his mom, but the only thing he asked was whether that meant I wouldn’t look so lonely all the time. And I didn’t know what to tell him because I didn’t know you at all. But I—I’m glad. That it was you. You’re a good person, Buck, and I really want to be your friend—which I suppose is a complicated way of saying…yes. I think he’ll like you. I do.”

Buck’s heart pounds in his chest, blood rushing in his ears. He feels unsteady for an entirely different reason now. His mouth feels dry, and it’s like there are champagne bubbles fizzing in his blood.

“I never thanked you for earlier,” he rasps. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you saved me too.”

“Least I could do,” Eddie replies. “I guess we…make a pretty good team.”

“Guess we do.”

_I like you, too._

“Tell me more about Calder?” Buck asks, trying to distract himself so he doesn’t break their newly-brokered peace by doing something stupid like kissing Eddie. 

“What do you want to know?”

They stay there, talking at the rail until there’s nothing but shadow and starlight playing across the deck, until Buck’s holding back yawns. Eddie’s shoulder is still solid and warm against his. 

“I should probably sleep,” Buck acknowledges when they fall into a pleasant lull.

“You know there’s—” In the dark, Buck can’t tell if Eddie’s flushed or if it’s just the shadows. Eddie clears his throat. “There’s an extra bed in my cabin. You don’t have to share with Hen if you—not that there’s anything wrong with that—I’m just saying you don’t…have to.” 

_Get ahold of yourself_ , Buck scolds internally when his body reacts accordingly to the idea of sharing a room with Eddie. _He’s saying you can share a room, not a bed._

“Okay,” he accepts. “Yeah, that sounds—sure.”

“Okay.”

Of course, Buck is hyperaware once they’re in the cabin. Of every breath, every movement. He stares up at the ceiling, listening to Eddie on the other side of the room—

Despite the fact that he’s exhausted, he doesn’t sleep for a long time. 

The last few days of the journey pass without further incident. He and Eddie fall into something of a routine—in the morning they spar on deck with swords, later they end up talking late into the night at the rail about everything and nothing until one or both of them is too tired to keep it up. It’s…nice. Comfortable. 

God, Buck likes him. Too damn much. 

He doesn’t know what to expect when they finally disembark—there’s remarkably little fanfare, but then, Eddie isn’t a fanfare type. Buck honestly enjoys the lack of fuss. It makes him feel…normal. 

It’s still another few hours on horseback from the shore to the castle, and Buck feels Eddie’s energy shift the closer they get. He loosens up, smiles more easily. When the gates are in sight, Eddie glances over and grins.

“Wanna race?”

Buck laughs, not even bothering to answer directly, just digging in his heels and snapping the reins. He can hear Hen and Athena yelling after them, but it’s carried away by the wind whipping in his ears.

“What do I get when I win?” He calls over to Eddie.

“Who says you’re going to?” Eddie calls back. 

Buck can’t remember the last time he felt so good.

They careen through the field outside the main city gates—when they get to the gates, they’re forced to slow down, but they’re both still grinning as they pull up on the reins.

“How badly is Athena going to kill us?” Buck asks as they take an easy pace through the winding city streets. 

“Will you think less of me if I hide behind my son?” Eddie jokes in return. 

“Only a little.”

It isn’t that far to the castle courtyard—as they ride through the archway, Buck opens his mouth to say something else, only to be cut off by a shout of pure delight from the open corridor by the doors across the way. Eddie’s head snaps in the direction of the sound and his smile is blinding as he swings down from his horse and crosses the yard in as few strides as possible. Buck barely gets a glimpse of curly hair, crutches, and a different wide smile before Eddie’s dropping to his knees and getting fiercely hugged. 

Buck’s heart stutters at the scene. Eddie _radiates_ love and joy in a way that Buck’s never seen from him before. It’s nothing like how he grew up, nothing like the chilly distance prevalent in all the other royal households he’s familiar with. That…that’s family. That’s what family should look like.

He dismounts slowly, hanging back, not wanting to interrupt the father-son reunion. A woman crosses the courtyard to him—

“So…you’re the husband?”

Buck blinks. “Uh, yes. I’m…the husband. And you are…?”

“Carla,” she offers. “Carla Price. I look after that beautiful boy over there.”

“Evan. Or Buck—I’m not really big on all the titles.”

“Oh you’ll fit right in here then,” Carla replies, shooting him a wink. “We’re all about informality.”

Buck looks back to Eddie and Christopher. Eddie is still on his knees, but has pulled back enough to look at his son, who appears to be talking a mile a minute.

“They look really happy.”

“They are. There’s nothing in the world that man loves so much as Christopher.”

“Yeah, I’ve—I’ve sort of been getting that impression,” Buck admits. “It’s nice. It’s really nice.”

It’s making him want to melt. 

“Do you want to go over?” Carla asks. Buck shakes his head slowly as Eddie reaches out and ruffles Christopher’s hair.

“No, that’s okay, I can—”

“Buck!” Eddie turns that smile on him and gestures with his head—it’s like a string threads around Buck’s heart and yanks him forward until he’s standing in front of them.

“Buck, this is Christopher,” Eddie introduces. “Christopher, this is Buck.”

Buck kneels down to their levels. “It’s very nice to meet you, your highness. Your dad talks about you a lot.”

“Dad says that you’re going to live here now,” Christopher says.

Buck glances at Eddie and then back to Christopher. “Yes, I am. Is that okay with you? It’s okay if it isn’t.”

Christopher looks at him curiously. “Will you play knights with me? I only have a wooden sword but Carla builds pillow forts with me and we have adventures.”

…oh, Buck loves this kid already.

“I would love nothing more than to play knights with you,” Buck swears solemnly. 

Christopher nods. “Okay! You can stay.”

At his side, Eddie is shaking with silent laughter and Buck has to press his lips together to hold back his own laugh. 

“Thank you, your highness,” Buck replies. “I’m very grateful for your hospitality.” 

They’re interrupted by the clop of horses—Athena, Hen, and Bobby ride through the archway, all looking at least mildly exasperated. 

“Is this the part where we hide?” Buck jokes so only Eddie can hear.

“Hey, Chris, do you want to go show Buck inside?”

“Yes!”

Eddie lowers his voice and turns into Buck’s ear. “We can call it a strategic retreat.” 

Thankfully, he turns away and picks Christopher up, missing the way Buck shivers.

God, he is…so fucked.


	3. Interlude I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens...

Maddie Buckley does not like the duke of Kendall. She knows her parents like him and she understands the need for a good match, but there’s something…strange about him. Something just ever so slightly off behind his handsome, charming exterior that sets her teeth on edge. Her trip to the Kendall estate was not her idea, and frankly the longer it stretches on, the more she wants to leave. The estate itself is rather like the duke—too beautiful, too perfect, hiding goodness knows what underneath.

No. Maddie Buckley does not like the duke of Kendall. But her mother begged her to stay, so…she’s stayed. 

And…the trip isn’t entirely bad.

“Princess.” 

Maddie turns from the balcony to see Howie in the doorway of her chambers, the sunlight from the open window reflecting off of his armor. 

Howard Han—he came to Aureum for a tournament five years ago and asked to be a knight for his reward when he won. She still thinks about that day sometimes, the shy smile he gave her as he rode up alongside her box, the quiet way he asked her for her favor as if fully anticipating she would say not. She had been so taken-aback by the sweetness of it, the lack of expectation, that she pulled the ribbon from her hair and handed it over.

It was Buck who started calling him Chimney after an unfortunate incident involving a dare, some alcohol, and a clogged flue, and Maddie uses it sometimes, but…she likes Howie. She likes that she’s the only one who really calls him that. 

She likes…him. Maybe more than _likes_ , not that she’s free to say so. 

“There’s no one else here. You don’t have to call me that, Howie,” Maddie replies. It’s a conversation they’ve had so many times that she’s lost count—it’s familiar enough that they both know the script. Howie ducks his head, a smile flickering around his lips.

“I know…your highness.” 

Maddie bites her lip and steps towards him. “Did you need something?” 

Howie clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back.

“Have you had news from home?” He asks.

“Not recently—why?”

“Hen wrote me. Said Buck got married.”

Maddie freezes, thinking she must not have heard correctly. 

“Married?”

She has so many questions—why didn’t anyone tell her? Why wasn’t she there? Who did he marry? That’s her little brother, she should have—she always assumed she would be there for him if and when he got married. To hear that it happened without her even knowing…

God, she hates their parents sometimes. Because she knows this was them. 

“To the king of Calder.”

“ _Calder_?” Maddie wants to not be stuck in one word responses, but can’t seem to help herself. She may not like Doug, but she understands why her parents want the match. But sending Buck to Calder…no, that doesn’t make sense.

She clears her throat. “Did Hen say what the king is like at least? I’ve never met him.”

“She likes him. She thinks that they—” Howie cuts himself off and rubs at the back of his neck. “—well, you should probably ask Buck how things are going.”

Maddie’s eyebrows shoot up. Oh, now that’s interesting. But still—she shakes her head and goes to the wardrobe, pulling open the doors and bending down to open the trunk next to it.

“Your h—Mad—Princess.” Howie takes a steps closer. “Do you need—what are you doing?”

“Packing,” she says. “We’ve been here long enough. If I can’t trust my parents to keep me informed while I’m here, then I need to be home. I can’t—” Maddie pricks her finger on the point of a brooch and hisses.

“Here.” Howie is across the room in a moment, reaching out for her hand. There’s a small drop of blood welling up from the center of her index finger and he presses a handkerchief to it before closing her hand around the cloth. His thumb passes lightly over her knuckles as he withdraws his hand—Maddie bites her lip again.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. 

“Anytime, Princess.” He looks away. “If you’re set on leaving, I can gather your ladies and inform everyone else. You don’t have to do it yourself.”

Maddie gives him a grateful smile. “I appreciate that.”

With a nod, he turns and walks out.

She packs until an hour before dinner, perfectly happy to do it herself until her ladies appear to take over. Then she writes two letters—one to her parents, informing them of her decision, and another to Buck—seals them, and makes her way up to the highest tower to find a raven to send them.

She doesn’t get very far.

“I hear you’re leaving.” Doug stops her on the stairs, stepping out of an alcove to block her path. Maddie goes cold, slipping the letters up her sleeve. 

“Yes,” she says. “You have a lovely estate, Doug, but I think it’s time for me to return to my family.”

“Because your brother got married?” He asks. 

“…you knew?”

He shrugs, a charming smile on his lips that Maddie doesn’t trust at all.

“As a member of court, I received an invitation. I assumed you were informed and simply didn’t wish to attend,” he replies. “I wouldn’t worry about your brother if I were you, your highness—I have a feeling he won’t be gone for very long.” 

There’s something ominous in the phrasing, something black and cold behind Doug’s eyes. Maddie straightens her spine even as she wants to shudder and look away.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His smile widens. “Just that Calder doesn’t have the best track record with keeping its monarchs alive. Although I certainly wish your brother and his new husband many happy returns. Who knows—perhaps this new king will beat the odds.” 

“Perhaps you should remember your place, _Duke_ Kendall,” Maddie snaps, something in her rearing at the implicit threat she hears in his words. “You’re speaking of the prince of your realm and the king of another, and speaking _to_ your future queen. Show some respect.”

Doug’s smile drops, anger flaring in his eyes for the briefest of moments before his face smooths out into an impassive mask. At his side, Maddie sees one of his hands clench and release.

Yes. Leaving is definitely her best idea.

“You’re right, your highness,” he forces out. “I…apologize.”

He finally steps aside, clearing the path for her up the stairs. “Will I see you at dinner?”

Maddie considers him carefully. She had been planning on it, but—

“No, thank you. I’ll take dinner in my rooms tonight.”

His jaw tics. “Very well.”

Maddie watches him go—she doesn’t breathe normally until he disappears from her sight at the bottom of the staircase. 

Sending the letters doesn’t settle her nerves any though. She keeps replaying Doug’s words over in her mind. Something isn’t right—not about what he said and not about the situation in the first place. Why Calder? Why Buck? And what the hell does Doug know about anything?

She can’t settle down. So—she takes a risk.

It’s easy to slip into Doug’s study. Easier still to find the sheaves of correspondence in his desk. Maddie doesn’t know what she’s looking for, what she’s trying to find, or if there really is anything to find at all, but—

One letter catches her eye, crumpled and caught in the back of the drawer. She pulls it out—her stomach sinks as she scans the words. Oh god. She can’t—she didn’t think things were so—that anyone would—

“What are you doing?”

Maddie’s heart stops.


	4. Calder I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kings and crowns and pledges, oh my.

It’s Christopher who brings it up first, a few days after they arrive back in Calder.

“Dad? Is Buck going to get a crown like yours?”

Eddie nearly chokes on his breakfast. The only saving grace is that Buck himself hasn’t joined them yet, so he’s slightly less on the spot—although Eddie thinks he may have heard the beginnings of movement from the chambers next to his when he left several minutes prior.

Athena and Bobby exchange an amused look across the table and return to their food, clearly not intending to be any help. 

“Well, Buck already has his own,” Eddie starts, but Christopher shakes his head immediately.

“He has one like mine because he’s a prince. But mom had a different one. And I read in one of the old history books that when you marry someone from someplace else there’s a—a—” Christopher screws up his face like he’s thinking hard trying to remember what he was told. Before he does, there’s a quiet cough from the doorway—Buck’s face is ever so slightly pink and Eddie feels his own flush for no discernible reason. 

“A pledging ceremony,” Buck fills in, and Chris grins wide.

“Yes, that!”

“Morning,” Eddie greets as Buck pulls out a chair across from him. Buck responds with a small smile.

“Morning.” 

They haven’t really…discussed the marriage thing since their arrival. Christopher likes Buck and Buck seems absolutely enthralled by Christopher, which has given Eddie no end of relief, but there are other things Eddie knows they’ll need to get into at some point. Things like what exactly Buck should do with himself, what his role should be, how he can help. Eddie’s not such an idiot that he can’t acknowledge the fact that between the two of them, Buck is the one with far more knowledge about how this whole royalty thing works despite the fact that Eddie’s been stumbling up the learning curve for the past several years. 

As is clear even from the current conversation.

“So…what’s a pledging ceremony?” Eddie asks.

Buck rubs at the back of his neck and shrugs, looking away. It’s shifty and oddly subdued for him, but Eddie puts that down to the fact that it’s still early and it’s a little awkward to walk into a room to find out that you’re the topic of conversation.

“It’s kind of old-fashioned, doesn’t happen much anymore, but—really, it’s what it sounds like. When a royal from one kingdom joins another, through marriage or otherwise, they go before the king and court and pledge themselves to their new land. It started as something knights would do when they moved between places during wartime to signal they weren’t up to no good, but now it’s more of a…symbolic respect thing?” 

“Oh.” Eddie’s not entirely sure what to say—in his view, the fewer formal court events the better, but he also doesn’t want to accidentally put his foot in his mouth again. Does Buck want—? 

“Like I said, it isn’t that common anymore, we don’t have to—” Buck starts, seemingly feeling just as off-balance as Eddie does, but that’s when Bobby jumps in.

“Actually, that isn’t a bad idea,” he says. “Symbolic or not—this kingdom has been through a lot in the past several years and you are technically an outsider, Buck. It could be good for the court to see it.”

Something about that grates at Eddie’s insides. They’ve had enough _obligation_ between them—the last thing he wants is to add more in case Buck isn’t comfortable with the idea—

“He doesn’t—”

“Eddie.” Buck’s voice is quiet, but Eddie snaps his mouth shut and looks over. Buck looks…amused? “I don’t mind. Really. I—we should. Have one.” 

Christopher claps his hands in excitement, then his eyes widen. “Dad! You should have a ball after! Carla says it’s polite to welcome people properly and we haven’t done _anything_ for Buck.” He looks over at Buck, smile wide. “We had one when we first came here—I don’t remember that much because I had to go to bed, but everything was really pretty.”

The very suggestion makes his stomach twist. But Eddie sees the excitement on Christopher’s face, and goodness knows, he can’t say no to his son.

“They definitely can be,” Buck says before cutting his gaze over to Eddie, his teeth sinking into his lower lip like he’s holding back on saying anything else, trying not to overstep in regards to Eddie’s parental authority. But Eddie can also see the new light in his eyes, the spark at the idea.

And maybe Christopher isn’t the only one Eddie can’t say no to.

It’s an easy thing to give. And Chris—or Carla—is right: it’s polite to welcome people properly.

“We can have a ball,” Eddie agrees, tamping down on the flutter of warmth in his chest at the smile that spreads across Buck’s face. “I’m a terrible party planner though.”

“Lucky for you, I know what I like,” Buck teases. And really, what can Eddie do but smile back?

* * *

Buck is an idiot. 

He never means to be, but somehow from the beginning with Eddie he’s just managed to…keep setting himself up for things. 

Getting his ass kicked in the training yard. Being rebuffed on their wedding night.

And now this.

A pledging ceremony. 

Admittedly, he had been a little thrown when he first stumbled into the conversation, which is what he tells himself later when he’s internally swearing about it. It’s not that what he said when Eddie asked for an explanation was a lie—everything he said was technically correct—it’s more that he sort of…wasn’t as explicit as he could have been.

_A symbolic respect thing_. Well…yes, for knights. For royals, a pledging ceremony can be a proposal, or, more realistically an extension of a wedding. There’s a reason why they aren’t done much anymore—Buck hasn’t even seen one himself, just read about them—because most people have already made those kinds of vows. For them it isn’t just a pledge to a kingdom, but to a person. It matters. A lot, actually. 

And Buck…is an idiot. Because he _is_ happy to go through with it—he agrees with Bobby that under the circumstances it makes sense, even though he doubts Bobby recognizes the full context either. And maybe in a way it isn’t so different from telling Eddie back in Aureum that he planned on taking their marriage seriously but also…it is. Maybe it’s only been a handful of weeks, but Buck feels things differently than he had then, means things differently. 

Means them at all.

Honestly, Buck isn’t sure what’s worse. Going through the ceremony and saying everything and meaning every word only for Eddie to think it’s nothing but ceremonial…or for Eddie to realize it isn’t and pull away. 

He doesn’t let himself think about the third option, that Eddie might realize how he feels and reciprocate. Buck knows he’s not that lucky. 

So he shoves all of those thoughts aside and throws himself into planning a ball and spending time with Christopher and wandering through the castle exploring while he tries to feel out what exactly his role is supposed to be. 

Once, Buck ends up in the throne room while Eddie’s holding audiences—he ducks behind a pillar to observe unnoticed. He learns a lot that way. With an excuse to do nothing but watch for hours, he gets very good very quickly at cataloguing Eddie’s face, his expressions, his different tones of voice. Eddie isn’t so subtle that Buck can’t tell when he starts getting frustrated, and Buck feels a simultaneous flicker of sympathy and thrill that he may just know how to help. With that in mind, he slips away, waiting to catch Eddie when he exits rather than continuing to mix into the crowd of people waiting their turns.

“You’re good at that,” he says when Eddie appears in the passageway off the main hall. Eddie tenses in surprise, only to relax when he registers that his new companion is only Buck.

“You were there?”

Buck pushes off the wall and falls into step at Eddie’s side. “For most of it. I can see why people like you.”

Eddie ducks his head and Buck catches a glimpse of a small smile. “Not everyone.”

“Ah, yeah, I did notice that too,” Buck acknowledges, thinking about the steady stream of complaints and requests to resolve conflicts from various merchants. “You know what you should do?”

“What?”

“Tell them to form trade guilds.” When Eddie looks over, Buck shrugs. “Make each subset form their own organizational group, establish leadership boards—it’ll give them all a space to air their grievances and resolve petty interpersonal disputes, contract issues, whatever, in front of people with the same level of expertise. So when they do come to you, it’s with things that genuinely matter. That way, you’re less frustrated, they’re less frustrated—everyone wins.”

“That—” Eddie stops. Blinks once. Twice. “That…could actually work.”

“It will,” Buck replies. “Trust me, it’ll make them feel important and like you trust them, which will make them respect you more, plus they’ll bother you less as a result.”

“Huh. Yeah, I—thank you.”

“Just happy to be useful.” 

Eddie goes quiet at that and they continue down the hall, walking so close together that their shoulders brush. It’s perhaps a little too close—it would be easy to trip—but Buck doesn’t make any move to put more space between them.

Finally, Eddie says—

“I’m not very good at asking for help.” Buck looks over to see Eddie swallow. “It’s—what I’m trying to say is—I know you know far more than I do about all of this. And I wasn’t sure if you would want to help in any sort of meaningful way and didn’t want to assume—but it’s not because I don’t trust you or wouldn’t want you to be more involved. I just didn’t know how to ask.”

Buck bites his lip. _I’ll do whatever you want me to. I’ll be whatever you need._

“Well…consider this an open offer then,” he says. “I’ve got nothing but time. I am entirely at your disposal. Well—at least when I’m not at Christopher’s.”

Eddie laughs. “I’d certainly hate to have to answer to him if I dragged you away. But, if you’d like…I have a council meeting tomorrow afternoon. You’re welcome to come, if you’d like.”

“I’d be glad to,” Buck agrees. His heart skips when Eddie smiles at him. 

They part at the stairs—Buck isn’t sure what compels him to go the library instead of continuing his explorations, but he ends up spending the rest of the night combing through books, scribbling phrases down to string together something that feels right. 

He agreed to a pledging ceremony. He may as well do it properly.

* * *

It takes less than a week for Eddie to realize he’s in trouble.

Not because there’s anything wrong—exactly the opposite. Because everything is great. Because Buck…fits. It’s the last thing Eddie expected, but it’s true. From the first day he stood in a doorway and watched Buck play with Christopher, slipping away before he could be seen, before he might have to explain the way the sight nearly sent him to his knees from the wave of mixed emotions that crashed into him—joy, relief, gratitude…guilt—to the council meeting where Buck slid into the chair next to him at the last minute and deftly stepped in every time Eddie started to get stuck, it’s just been…so much more than Eddie ever thought this marriage would be. 

Buck lights up around Christopher, like he genuinely loves him despite the fact that they’ve only really had a handful of days together, and he’s so good at things and knows so much, but he never makes Eddie feel incompetent or like the fuck-up he feels like most of the time, he just…does whatever Eddie needs, even sometimes before he realizes he needs help. It’s a lot to process. And Eddie doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do about it. Or if he should do anything at all. Or how he would go about doing anything even if he could sort himself out.

It’s a bit of a mess. So, he doesn’t do anything. He just lets their relationship continue naturally—if there have been some nights when they’ve had a little too much to drink and he’s come close to pressing Buck against the nearest flat surface, well, that’s between him and whatever higher power may exist. They’ve fallen into a comfortable routine. Friends. Partners. He’s not going to mess with that.

Unless Buck—well. Buck wouldn’t, Eddie’s fairly sure, so it’s a moot point. 

It takes a week after it’s first brought up to finalize plans for the pledging ceremony and ball, and another week before the ceremony is held. Eddie has gone over the details, has a script memorized, but when it’s time, Eddie still feels a little like he wants to throw up. 

Not because of Buck or their marriage or anything like that, it’s more just the public spectacle of it, the feeling of all eyes on him—even though unlike the wedding, they’re now in his court, around his own people, he’s never gotten used to it, never developed any sense of ease surrounding these sorts of things. Shannon liked them, which always worked out. She would draw the attention away from him so that he could think and breathe and stop feeling quite so much like a bug trapped under a glass. Or at the very least, when she was there…it was easier to forget that they were surrounded by so many others. 

But…there’s no turning back now.

“Ready?” Bobby asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” Eddie replies. He takes a breath, holds it for a moment, and exhales slowly. Then, he steps out of the passage at the back of the throne room and makes his way up the steps to his throne, hearing a hush fall over the room as he settles. He catches Christopher’s eyes from where he’s standing with Carla in the front row of spectators—his son’s smile is infectious—some of his tension bleeds away. 

A moment later, there are three knocks at the main door.

“Who knocks?” He says, recalling the script. It’s Hen who answers, standing just inside the entrance.

“The prince of Aureum, your majesty. He seeks an audience before the full court.”

“I grant it. Bid him enter, good knight.”

The door opens.

Eddie’s breath catches. His mind goes blank. Hell, he damn near swallows his tongue.

Because Buck…is wearing armor. Gold and glinting in the afternoon light that filters through the high windows, his house crest branded into the breastplate, and a white cape that shimmers when the light hits it at the right angle, his sword strapped to his waist and a circlet studded with blue stones atop his head that seems to make his eyes shine even brighter. 

Eddie has seen Buck in a lot of outfits by now, in all kinds of expensive fabrics and colors and good tailoring, he knows that Buck looks good. But there’s something about _this_ look that’s particularly…royal. Powerful. Commanding. 

He wants to unfasten the straps of that breastplate with his teeth, strip off the mail underneath, and get his hands on every square inch of skin. Especially when Buck finally finishes making his way into the room and up the steps, falling to one knee at the final one and bowing his head.

It takes him a minute to remember what he’s meant to say next.

“You requested an audience, prince? For what purpose?” Eddie’s voice is rough—he hopes it’s only noticeable to his ears.

“Yes, your majesty.” Buck’s voice is clear—when he glances up, his gaze is steady. “I wish to make a pledge to you and to this kingdom.” 

Eddie clears his throat.

“And what is your pledge?” He offers his hand and Buck takes it—even through gloves, Eddie feels like the touch burns. 

“I pledge myself to you, my king. My sword and shield. My loyalty. All that is mine to give, I offer freely if you would ask it. So I say, so it shall be. That is my pledge.”

Buck presses his lips to Eddie’s knuckles and Eddie nearly chokes. God, he feels like his blood has been replaced by liquid fire. His mind has latched unhelpfully onto _all that is mine to give, I offer freely_ , to the flicker in Buck’s eyes as he said the words, to the headier implications.

Fuck.

_He doesn’t mean it_ , Eddie reminds himself, firmly tamping down on his more explicit impulses. _It’s just a script. Just words. Just ceremony._

_A symbolic respect thing_ , that was how Buck had described it when it first came up. It isn’t helpful for Eddie’s mind to go raring off down very different paths just because Buck looks like _that_ and is on his knees and saying everything Eddie wants to hear.

Ceremony. Etiquette. It’s not real. It doesn’t mean anything. 

No matter how much Eddie is recognizing that he really wishes it did.

At the bottom of the steps, Bobby clears his throat—Eddie inhales sharply, time suddenly catching up to him as he realizes how long the silence has stretched on. He swallows, but his mouth still feels far too dry.

“I accept your pledge, dear prince,” he says, scrambling to remember the words. “On my own behalf and that of this kingdom. And I do swear on my honor that so long as your pledge holds, you will be under my protection and will be welcome in my kingdom, my halls, and at my table. So I say, so it shall be.”

Buck lifts his head and nods. Eddie clasps Buck’s forearm— “Arise. And welcome.”

Buck returns the clasp and allows Eddie to pull him to his feet. The step down means that for once they’re on the same level instead of Buck’s slight height advantage—it takes everything in Eddie not to sway forward and seal the ceremony with a kiss instead of releasing Buck’s arm and allowing him to step away amidst the smattering of applause from those in attendance. As Buck descends the steps, Eddie returns to his throne and sinks down heavily into it, his gaze tracking his husband until the door closes behind him once again. 

He’s only vaguely aware of Bobby taking over and making announcements about the ball.

His hand still burns from Buck’s mouth.

* * *

Buck wants to die just a little bit as he changes for the ball. He feels hot all over, his skin prickling and too tight, and it has everything to do with the way Eddie had looked at him during the pledging ceremony. He looked like—like he had in the forest after the ambush. Like he wanted to eat Buck alive. Only this time, there was no ambush, no fight, no other adrenaline to get their blood hot. 

_All that is mine to give_ , Buck said, and he meant it. Everything. Their rooms are next to each other, separate but close enough that either one of them could easily go to the other’s if so inclined—in fact, Buck is fairly certain that the nondescript door he found tucked away in the corner of his rooms leads to Eddie’s, although he’s never tried the handle to see if it’s unlocked or not. It’s been weeks and they’ve gotten closer and started working together more and Buck just—

He meant it. And against his own expectations, he’s pretty damn sure that Eddie felt at least something about that. He may be insecure, but he’s not blind—he knows what desire looks like.

But. Feeling it doesn’t mean that Eddie wants to act on it. 

And regardless, they have a ball to get through. 

Buck exhales heavily as his fingers do up the buttons on his blue and gold striped doublet. He’s just finished when there’s a knock on the door. 

“Yes?” He calls.

“It’s me.” Eddie.

Buck freezes for a moment. Then he makes himself cross the room and open the door.

Eddie’s hands are behind his back, but his eyes widen a fraction as his eyes track over Buck.

“You changed.”

“Well, it’s not as easy to dance in armor,” Buck replies.

“True…I didn’t realize you wore armor.” Eddie’s eyes are dark when they finally flick back up to meet his again.

Buck wets his lips. “It’s ceremonial.”

“You…looked good in it,” Eddie says after a brief pause.

Buck is hugely tempted to press, to get Eddie to expand on that limited statement, but he gets distracted from that goal when Eddie shifts his weight and Buck catches a glint of something behind his back.

“What’s that?”

Eddie looks away for a moment, shifting again. He looks…nervous? 

“I, um—I had something made for you,” he says quietly. “I know I didn’t ask, but I was hoping—I thought you might like to wear it.”

Buck rocks back lightly on his heels when Eddie reveals what’s in his hands—a crown. A stunning work of craftsmanship not unlike Eddie’s own—delicate filigree twisting around to form the band, spiking to sharp points at intervals. The stone pressed into the center is red rather than the blue of Buck’s circlet, and smaller diamonds dot the midline—

He doesn’t know what to say.

Apparently, Eddie takes his silence as confusion or perhaps displeasure, and clears his throat, adding, “You have your own, I know that too, it’s just something that Christopher said, and I thought—but you really don’t—”

“Eddie.” Eddie stops talking, and Buck can see the nerves flickering across his face even more clearly. 

Buck reaches out, tracing the edge with the lightest brush of one finger. “It’s beautiful.”

“Really?”

Buck bites back a smile and steps back inside the room, taking off his circlet and setting it aside as he glances back over his shoulder.

“Put it on me?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark again when he crosses the threshold. The door clicks shut behind him.

“You’re a little tall for that.”

“Well, if you wanted me on my knees again, all you had to do was ask,” Buck replies before he can think better of it. 

Eddie’s throat works as he swallows, and Buck holds his breath as he waits for a response.

“If you like,” Eddie says finally, his voice low enough that Buck shivers. 

Buck holds Eddie’s gaze as he slowly drops to one knee. “So?”

Eddie takes one step closer, then a second. They’re both silent as the crown settles on Buck’s head—the weight he feels has very little to do with the accessory and almost everything to do with the lightning sparking between them, crawling over his skin. One of Eddie’s hands comes to Buck’s cheek and Buck’s eyes slip shut. His thumb rests at the edge of Buck’s mouth for a moment before tentatively dragging across his lower lip. 

“Buck—” God, Eddie’s _voice_. It’s nothing but the barest shadow, a rasp that sinks into Buck’s very bones and claws at his insides.

“Yes.” It doesn’t matter that Eddie didn’t explicitly ask anything—that’s the answer regardless. 

_Please._

Buck forces his eyes open, curls his fingers around Eddie’s wrist, just as he had in the forest when he couldn’t help himself, only now it’s more deliberate. Eddie mutters something under his breath that Buck’s pretty sure is a swear, and then he yanks Buck to his feet and—

“Buck?”

They break apart at the knock at the door—both breathing like they’ve just run a marathon despite the fact that nothing happened. They’d been so close, close enough that Buck’s mouth feels branded even though Eddie’s never touched it.

Buck coughs once, tries to get himself under control. “Yes, Hen?”

“We’re ready for you downstairs.”

“Coming,” he says. “Be right there.”

He looks back to Eddie. “I suppose we should—”

“Yeah. Right,” Eddie replies. “You should—you should go first. I’ll be right there.”

“Right.”

“Are you okay?” Hen asks when Buck steps into the corridor. “You look flushed.”

Buck clears his throat. “Fine. Perfectly fine.”

God, he _burns_.

He doesn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame them.


	5. Calder II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter because I couldn't easily combine it with the next interlude. And...I'm sorry.

When the door closes behind Buck, Eddie leans heavily against the wardrobe and tries to get himself under control. 

Fuck. _Fuck._

When he’d decided to come by to give Buck the crown he had made, he didn’t plan on…anything that happened after. But Eddie had still been keyed up from the ceremony and Buck had looked stunning, with a spark in his eyes and a soft, pleased flush when he saw the gift, and Eddie—he hadn’t been able to help himself. Especially when Buck turned things flirty in a way that Eddie couldn’t misread, dropping to his knees again, looking up at Eddie under lowered lashes with dark eyes. 

Crowning Buck felt like far more than giving a gift. It felt like…a claim. It made something hot and possessive flare up inside of him just as during the pledging ceremony. 

Only he finally had the opportunity to act on it. And fuck, did he want to.

They came so close—Eddie was fully prepared to kiss Buck and drag him over to the bed and ignore the ball in favor of much more pleasurable pursuits. But, instead, Eddie hadn’t even managed a real kiss. 

So close—

Eddie can practically still feel Buck under his hands, the ghost of his breath on Eddie’s lips. 

He drags a hand over his face. Fuck. _Get it together._

The last thing he wants to do is go downstairs to a ball, where he’ll have to spend the next several hours in close proximity with Buck but unable to touch him the way he wants to, unable to kiss him, unable to talk about what just happened or ask what he wants or—

Eddie thinks he knows what Buck wants. At least, to an extent. But he doesn’t know the rest, doesn’t know _enough_. If Buck wants a one-night tumble between the sheets to work out some tension, or if he’s just interested in regular sex, or if—if maybe what he really wants is—is far more than that.

With Shannon, she kissed him first. Eddie never had to ask or stumble through these questions of what they were, where they were going, or anything else because she was clear right from the start that she wanted him, all of him, for as long as he wanted her, and he was more than happy to be hers. But with Buck, the two of them did everything backwards, got married without wanting it, without feeling anything, without really knowing one another, and now—

It’s silly, maybe, given that Eddie’s pretty sure that they would have ended up in bed or close to it if they hadn’t been interrupted, but he just…needs to hear Buck say that he wants him. Specifically him, not just someone to fill a void. 

Because, as he’s realizing—he wants Buck. And not just as someone to fall into bed with. Over the past few weeks, Buck has been an ally, a friend, a partner—

Buck is his husband. And Eddie…hell, Eddie wants him to _be_ his husband. 

What is he supposed to do with that?

Eddie sighs and rests his forehead against the wardrobe for a moment longer. But finally, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and walks out. It’s a few hours in public. Then he and Buck can—well, then maybe they can put everything on the table. 

Downstairs, Bobby is pacing in front of the staircase. He stops when he notices Eddie coming down. 

“Where did you disappear to?” Bobby asks under his breath, glancing at Eddie curiously. “Thought we were going to have to send out a search party.”

Eddie catches Buck’s eyes where he’s standing by the door across the room. Buck flushes and looks away.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie replies. “Let’s just…get this over with, yeah?”

“Sure.” 

Bobby and Athena walk ahead—Eddie stops next to Buck, listening as they’re announced. The silence between them stretches awkwardly for a moment before Eddie clears his throat—

“The crown looks good on you.”

Buck catches his bottom lip between his teeth—Eddie gets distracted enough that he nearly misses the response.

“Well…the person who had it made has good taste.”

Eddie smiles, their shoulders brush as he takes a step in. If he was braver he might reach for Buck’s hand, but—bravery is one thing in a war. The interpersonal shit…that’s something else.

“Shall we?” He asks instead. Buck nods.

“Let’s go.”

And the doors open.

* * *

Dinner is a special kind of torture. 

Buck is seated next to Eddie, Christopher and Carla on Eddie’s other side, and it takes everything in him to focus on the people coming by and introducing themselves, those on his other side making polite conversation, when his thigh is pressed against Eddie’s under the table. He’s entirely distracted, half of him still upstairs in his room with Eddie, wondering, wanting—there’s an itch under his skin, a need to touch. He hardly tastes his food.

“You okay?” Eddie asks before the dessert course, leaning in close, his mouth ghosting across Buck’s ear. Back barely restrains a shiver. 

When he turns his head, their faces are nearly close enough to brush. Buck’s eyes flick down to see Eddie’s tongue sweep over his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Buck replies. “You?”

“Well, I haven’t had to dance yet, so I’m doing better than I will be soon.”

Buck laughs. “You don’t like to dance?”

Eddie shrugs. “I’ve never been very good at it. Wasn’t exactly a skill I thought I would use when I was growing up.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m an excellent lead. Or follow. Whichever.” 

“Good to know.” Eddie’s voice is low, warm—when Buck meets his eyes, Eddie’s smile is reflected in them. 

God, Buck wants to kiss him. He leans back instead. 

“What about you, Chris?” He looks past Eddie to the grinning, delighted child at his side. “What do you think about dancing?”

“It looks so fun!” Christopher replies. “I don’t know how though.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Buck assures. “I’ll teach you. Sounds like your dad could use some pointers too.”

Eddie laughs and Buck shoots him a wink. He likes making Eddie smile.

“Really?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, of course, buddy. You can stand on my toes—that’s how I learned.”

Eddie’s thumb brushes the edge of his wrist. _Thank you_ , he mouths when Buck glances over. Buck tentatively grazes Eddie’s pinky with his, his stomach flipping over. _You’re welcome._

Their hands brush once more before separating as Buck’s attention is pulled by some courtier or another coming over to introduce herself. The rest of dinner passes quickly. As the plates begin to be cleared away, the buzz of conversation dulls slightly as music begins to filter through the hall. There’s a large open space at the other end of the room, the floor just waiting to be filled with dancing pairs, waiting for someone to open the ball—Buck glances over at Eddie again, finds that he’s already looking back.

“Shall we, your majesty?” Buck says, extending a hand. 

“You promise you’re not going to let me make a fool of myself?” Eddie asks, sliding his hand into Buck’s and pushing his chair back to stand. 

“Never.” _You can trust me._

Buck can feel every eye on them as they make their way across the room and onto the floor. They don’t say anything—they stop in the middle of the floor and Eddie bows, Buck returns it—after, Eddie’s hand seems to naturally fall to Buck’s waist and Buck rests his own lightly on Eddie’s arm. 

“This work?”

“I told you I can follow.” _I’ll be whatever you need._

The music starts, Eddie takes a breath, and then, they dance. 

“You know, you’re not as bad at this as you made it sound,” Buck says quietly as they move across the floor. His feet move on instinct, years of practice allowing him to fall back on muscle memory. He means it, too—Eddie may not be as comfortable with this kind of dancing, but swordfighting is just another kind, and he’s certainly not stumbling even if he’s a bit less fluid than in the training yard. 

Eddie’s hand is a gentle pressure through Buck’s doublet, his other hand warm in Buck’s. Around them, Buck is vaguely aware of other couples joining them on the floor, but he’s only looking at Eddie.

“Maybe I just have a really good partner.”

“Well, I’m not going to argue with you on that.” 

Eddie’s teeth flash as he smiles and looks down, his rhythm only faltering slightly. 

“I, um, I mean it,” he says, and it’s only practice that doesn’t make Buck stumble at the softness of it, the sincerity in Eddie’s eyes when he looks back up. 

Buck wets his lips. “Eddie…about earlier…”

“If I overstepped—” Buck starts shaking his head almost immediately.

“No—no, that’s not—what I mean is—” The music is slowing, the dance is ending—they stop moving, but Eddie’s hands don’t leave him. Buck swallows hard. They can’t discuss this here. But he wants to.

“Come back to my room later,” he adds. “We can…talk about it.” _Or not talk. That’s fine, too._

Eddie’s fingers spread wider against Buck’s waist, his thumb dragging lightly along Buck’s ribs through the fabric. Buck’s eyes close for a moment as he breathes into the touch.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll be there,” Eddie promises. 

A gently cleared throat snaps them out of the spell that’s fallen over them and they untangle themselves. Carla and Christopher are at their sides, Carla’s eyes sparkling with amusement.

“May we cut in?” She asks. “Someone is very excited about that dance you promised him.”

Well, how is Buck supposed to refuse something as endearing as that? And he did promise…

“I did say something about that, didn’t I?” Buck says, stepping back. He bows to Christopher and holds out a hand, a wide smile stretching his face. “May I have this dance, your highness?”

“Yes!”

It takes some maneuvering to get Christopher’s feet on top of his, but then they’re moving around the floor and the joy on the boy’s face makes Buck’s heart skip. It may have only been a few weeks, but he would do anything for this kid. Absolutely anything. 

“I’m dancing, Buck!”

“Yeah, you are,” Buck agrees with a small laugh. “What do you think? Is it as fun as you expected?”

Christopher nods. 

They make it through one song, then another, before Christopher stifles a yawn. They finally stop then and Buck walks him back to Carla and Eddie.

“I think it might be bedtime for future kings around here,” Buck notes, gently ruffling Christopher’s hair. 

“M not tired,” Christopher insists, but he’s betrayed by another yawn. Eddie chuckles quietly and kneels down, giving his son a hug and pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“You won’t be missing anything by going to bed,” Eddie assures. “I’ll even go with you to the stairs, okay?”

“I suppose,” Chris sighs, and Buck has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. 

“Come on, buddy.”

There’s no reason why Buck shouldn’t stay in the hall, find someone else to dance with. But instead, he follows behind Eddie, Christopher and Carla.

It’s quieter in the next room. He hangs back, watches Eddie say goodnight to Christopher again and stay at the bottom of the stairs until they disappear. When Eddie turns around and sees him, Eddie starts.

“Hey. Needed some air?”

“Didn’t think it was fair if you were the only one to get a break,” Buck teases lightly. On the other side of the door, the air is all abuzz with music and laughter and conversation, but the space between him and Eddie is relatively quiet. 

“I suppose we have to go back inside though,” Eddie acknowledges, taking a few steps closer. “We might be missed.”

“Probably.”

Eddie stops in front of him. Buck reaches out, curves his hand around Eddie’s waist, praying that it’s okay. Eddie doesn’t stop him though.

“You know, I might actually want another dance.” 

Buck’s startled into a laugh. “Oh, yeah?”

Eddie hums affirmatively. He’s so close, it would be so easy to just—

“Maybe you could lead this time,” he adds, and Buck’s breath catches as Eddie’s hands fall, not to a dance hold, but to Buck’s hips.

Oh. 

Easy. It would be easy. 

So, what the fuck is Buck waiting for? Eddie’s eyes are shadowed, and though his words may have sounded confident, he seems nervous and unsure again. Although his hands are on Buck’s hips, he hasn’t moved any more than that, like he’s waiting—

Waiting for permission. Waiting for Buck. 

Without another thought, Buck slides his free hand around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulls him in, and kisses him.

* * *

_Yes._

Eddie’s grip on Buck’s hips tightens as Buck’s lips meet his—finally—he presses back into it eagerly, wanting to let Buck lead, but also needing more, needing to be closer. He could not possibly care less about the ball, all the people just on the other side of the door, or anyone who might walk out and interrupt them. Buck makes a soft, desperate noise against his mouth and Eddie nips at Buck’s lip, pinning him up against the wall, sliding his tongue inside—

Buck shudders and releases the back of Eddie’s neck in favor of fisting his hands in the back of Eddie’s doublet and yanking him as close as possible. It’s been so long since Eddie’s been kissed, since he’s been touched like this, and he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to pull away and go back inside. He wants to pull Buck upstairs, to get his hands on skin, touch-starved and aching for it as he is. 

He just wants more. Wants everything. 

“Eddie.” Buck’s panting when he pulls back, his cheeks flushed, mouth red, pupils blown wide. “We should—fuck—we should—”

“I know,” Eddie replies, even as he leans in and steals another kiss. 

Buck laughs breathlessly into the kiss—his teeth drag over Eddie’s lip, followed by his tongue—but finally, he pushes Eddie back. 

“Later,” he says as he slips out from between Eddie and the wall. “We can pick this up later.”

“Right.” Eddie clears his throat and leans against the wall himself, tugging at his collar. His clothes feel too tight, he can’t quite catch his breath. “And…talk.”

“Well…” Buck drags his gaze over Eddie in a way that makes Eddie have to curl his fingers into fists so that he doesn’t pull Buck back in. “I think maybe we just did that. Unless…there’s something you want to say.”

_Yes._ Eddie swallows hard. _Yes, I—_

But his throat won’t work, words won’t come, and he thinks maybe—well, if Buck doesn’t think there’s anything to talk about, then maybe he really does only want sex. Maybe there really isn’t anything to say after all. 

It’s like he’s been dashed with ice water. The disappointment coats his tongue, but Eddie tries not to let it show on his face.

Nonetheless, he clearly misses the mark, because Buck’s brow furrows.

“Eddie? You okay?”

“I…”

From the courtyard, someone screams, chilling and high. Eddie’s head whips around, his heart stopping for a moment before he glances at Buck. 

“We should—”

“Yeah.”

They race outside—in the courtyard, there’s a man on a horse, bloody and barely conscious, teetering dangerously in the saddle. At Eddie’s side, Buck inhales sharply. When Eddie looks over, Buck’s face is drained of all color.

“Buck?”

“Get Hen,” Buck says, his eyes not leaving the man on the horse. His voice is a choked whisper. “And a doctor. Now.”

He’s off down the steps before Eddie can ask any further questions, before he can ask who the man is. Buck reaches the horse just in time to catch the man as he finally falls off of it. Eddie can’t tell if he’s finally lost consciousness or not.

Fuck.

Eddie turns to go in, to follow Buck’s instructions and find Hen, only to see her push through the crowd that’s begun to accumulate around the door.

“Hen—”

She doesn’t even seem to hear him, looking past him to where Buck is on his knees, his hands holding pressure on the stranger’s wounds. She blanches as well.

“Oh god. Chim.”


	6. Interlude II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return of the plot.

_Three weeks before the ball, Kendall Estate_

“What are you doing?”

Maddie exhales heavily when she realizes it’s only Howie. 

“Close the door,” she says, folding the letter and starting over with the other stacks of scattered papers, trying to see if she can match handwriting or, god willing, subject matter. “Where’s Doug?”

“Still at dinner. I was coming to find you to discuss travel arrangements.” He sounds concerned and more than a little suspicious, but Maddie doesn’t let herself pay it much mind, still preoccupied with the papers. “Why are you going through the duke’s desk?”

Maddie shakes her head. She finds another letter in the same hand. The rest seem meaningless. She shoves both of her prizes up her sleeves, still feeling sick, straightens the stacks so they look like they had before—

“Is the hall clear?” She asks.

Howie presses his lips together, but checks. “Yes.”

“Good. Come with me.”

She wants to run, wants to leave everything behind and take the fastest horse from the stables, to ride all night and for however many days it takes to get home. Home is home, home is safe, home isn’t secrets and plots and cold calculation—

But. If she runs it’s suspicious. Leaving in general, she can explain away, although it can be questioned it’s a choice that could withstand scrutiny. And the last thing she can afford is suspicion. 

“Princess— _Maddie_.” Howie’s hand clasps around her wrist—Maddie stops. They’ve reached her rooms while her feet have been moving on instinct. Inside, she hears nothing but silence—her ladies must have finished their work and left to eat. She pulls Howie inside.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He asks. “What were you doing before? Those papers—you took something—”

“Read them.” Maddie passes them over and walks away, sitting down heavily on the settee in the corner. Maybe she’s wrong, maybe she’s imagining things, reading too much into nothing—maybe Howie will look at them and tell her there’s nothing there, that she’s grasping at shadows—

He sucks in a breath. Swears.

He never swears in front of her.

She closes her eyes. Her fingers curl into her skirt. 

“I was right…wasn’t I? Doug is…”

Howie looks over. Swallows hard. 

“Planning to kill the king of Calder.”

Buck’s husband. And if Maddie read the letters right—they aren’t as explicit as they could be, whatever assassins Doug is corresponding with aren’t foolish enough to state it in no uncertain terms, but it’s not so difficult to read between the lines—it’s going to happen soon.

She may not know the man, but she doesn’t believe in killing her way into power. Beyond that…she knows her brother. Whatever plots are in motion, even if they’re designed only to target the king—Buck’s not going to let anything slide. He’s loyal. Protective. And she’s not convinced it will matter that the marriage was arranged rather than chosen—Buck’s not going to let anyone hurt his husband. He’ll be right in the middle of whatever happens.

He’ll get hurt. He could—

Maddie swallows hard. 

“What do we do?”

Howie runs a hand through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “They’ve already left Aureum and a raven won’t find them on the road. It could wait for them in Calder, but—”

“But that might be too late.” Maddie finishes the thought, resigned. 

“Hen’s with them, and Buck’s no slouch in a fight himself. If something happens…they could be fine.”

_Or they could die._

The thought must reflect on her face because Howie crosses the room and drops to one knee in front of the settee to put himself at eye-level with her. 

“Maddie.” 

She manages the smallest of smiles, trying to create some levity. “Twice in one day,” she says quietly. “Goodness, I might almost wonder if I’m the one with a target on my back.”

Howie flushes and looks away. “Your highness…”

She’s tired. Tired and afraid and the only good thing she can think is that this definitely means her parents aren’t going to insist she marries Doug and she wants, just for a _minute_ to feel—

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Please.” Maddie touches his cheek before she can talk herself out of it and he closes his eyes and leans into the touch. 

“Maddie,” he concedes. She thinks he might be tired too. The moment lasts a breath longer before he clears his throat and leans back.

“Do you want to go to Calder yourself?” He asks. “Warn them in person? I’ll take you if you do.”

Maddie bites her lip. It’s a thought, but—

“I think I have to go home,” she acknowledges. “Tell my parents, have Doug arrested. They’ll know what to do from there.”

Howie nods once. “As you wish. We can leave tomorrow, have everyone else follow with most of your trunks to save time if you’d prefer.”

She catches his hand as he stands. “Howie…thank you.”

He glances down, stills—finally though, he lifts their hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

“Get some sleep, Princess. Try not to worry—we’ll make this right.”

And then, he’s gone and Maddie stretches out on the settee, stares up at the ceiling, and tries to breathe. 

They’ll leave, they’ll go home, her parents will help them. They’ll figure everything out. It’ll be okay. 

It’ll all be okay.

* * *

_Two weeks before the ball, Aureum_

Her mother laughs when Maddie brings it up. They’re in her mother’s dressing room, Maddie sitting on a couch while her mother fixes her dress in the vanity mirror. 

“Sweetheart, what a thing to say! I think you’ve been reading too many novels.”

“I have proof,” she insists, feeling her stomach drop. “Letters—schedules of payments—”

But it’s as if she hasn’t spoken at all. 

“I know you weren’t thrilled at the idea of marrying the duke, but goodness, there’s no need to make up wild accusations. Your brother is fine. The king and the prince are fine. There’s no need to get hysterical.”

Her mother’s voice is sickeningly sweet as she reaches out and strokes Maddie’s hair gently like she had on rare occasions when she was a child. But Maddie gets stuck on one thing.

“The prince?” She asks slowly. “I…never said anything about the prince.”

Icy horror spreads through her as her mother drops her hand, makes a face.

“Damn,” her mother says. They might as well be discussing a rainstorm ruining a day at the park for all that her mother seems to care. “I suppose you didn’t. Unfortunate slip of the tongue, that.”

“You knew?”

Her mother presses a hand to Maddie’s cheek. “Oh, darling…who do you think came up with the idea? Assassins are much cheaper than armies after all, and I’m sure your brother will be the very picture of a grieving widower. He is such a sensitive one…but he’ll be a good king when all is said and done.”

Maddie’s mouth is dry, her head spinning. She reaches for her water glass and drains it. 

“He’ll never forgive you.”

“He’ll never find out.”

“I won’t let you—”

Her mother laughs again. “One day, you’ll be a queen, my dear. But for now, I am. You don’t _let me_ do anything. Your father and I will do what’s best for this kingdom and you will not interfere.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Can’t I?”

Maddie shoots to her feet and takes a step toward the door, only for dizziness to overtake her, blur her vision—

The water…

“Mother—”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just relax. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

The world goes black.

* * *

_One week before the ball, Aureum_

Maddie wakes up in her rooms with unfamiliar guards stationed at the doors. She spends a week as a prisoner in her own palace, being held by her own parents—she can’t send letters, has no idea where Howie is—

She feels…helpless. Hopeless. 

She should have taken Howie’s first offer, should have gone to Calder and Buck herself. Now, she’s trapped and plagued with visions of the worst possible outcomes, everything she could have prevented if she had just made a different choice.

One week. And then, she wakes up to a knock on her balcony window.

Howie.

Maddie throws her arms around him, not caring about her nightgown or any of the social conventions that she might have cared about before. 

“You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” he acknowledges. “They banned me from the castle.”

“It’s not just Kendall,” she explains. “My parents—they’re in this too—I can’t—”   
“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long—”

Maddie shakes her head. “No—no, you shouldn’t worry about me, they won’t hurt me. I can’t leave, but…they won’t hurt me.”

“Come with me,” he says. “I have horses ready, packs…we can leave now, go to Calder, find your brother. Do what we meant to at the start of this.”

Everything in Maddie wants to say yes. To climb down the balcony and run away with him. 

But. 

“If I go with you, they’ll follow,” she replies. “They’ll know where we’re going, we’ll never make it there.”

_They’ll kill you. To get to me._

She can’t.

“Maddie—”

“You should go. Go to Calder. Leave me here and don’t look back.”

“I can’t just—” 

“Please, Howie. You have to warn them.” Maddie grabs his hand and squeezes tightly. “You’re the only one I trust.”

Howie looks away, his brow furrowed. It’s not that she thinks he’ll say no—in fact, she knows he won’t, knows he can see the sense in it, knows he’ll do what has to be done. But she aches anyway.

“I took a vow,” he says quietly. “Years ago, I took a vow. To keep you safe.”

“You have,” she replies. “You will again. This isn’t—this is just temporary. Howie—”

“I love you.”

It steals her breath.

“I know,” she admits, because she does, she knows, she _has_ known, and all she’s wanted was just to have a choice— 

Well. If the world is being upended anyway, perhaps she should make one.

“I love you, too,” she adds. 

His lips are soft. Softer than she imagined. 

And gone too quickly.

“Come back to me,” she breathes.

Howie’s thumb strokes across her cheekbone before he drops his hand.

“I will. I promise.”

There’s a noise outside her door—both of them freeze, only relaxing when there’s been silence for a long enough period to give some faint comfort. But, the reminder that they aren’t free is enough.

“Go,” Maddie says, kissing him one more time just because she can. “Be safe.”

She doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

_The day of the ball, Calder_

Howard “Chimney” Han is a knight. He may also be a fool who fell in love with a princess miles out of his league, but he’s a knight. He knows how to keep a promise.

He rides through the first night, only stopping when he’s far enough from Aureum’s gates that he isn’t worried about being followed. He doesn’t mind being tired himself, although there’s a tension he can’t shake that comes from being stalled by the speed and exhaustion of a horse, the limitations of a ship—he can travel much faster on his own regardless, but part of him still wishes that he could magic himself to Calder.

Save the day.

_You have to warn them. You’re the only one I trust._

_Come back to me._

He made a promise. And even besides that—Buck is his friend, Hen is his friend, and it’s just the right thing to do.

He just has to get there and hope he isn’t too late.

Chim has just spotted the castle, the gates, when the first arrow hits the ground by his horse’s feet. The horse rears and Chim barely stays in the saddle, urging it to keep on as he tries to twist and see who—

The second arrow lodges in his shoulder. He’s been trying not to draw attention to himself while traveling, but as pain radiates out down his arm, he wishes desperately that he had armor. 

The third arrow catches him in the chest and Chim nearly blacks out. He digs his heels into the horse’s side, urging it faster towards the gates—he’s in no shape to try and fight anyone, especially not an archer with the benefit of distance, but he can try to make it there, try to make it to safety, try to at least deliver his message.

He lurches to the side to avoid another arrow—his arm hurts. Really hurts. 

No.

Burns.

_Poison_ , Chim thinks through his pain-addled mind. Take the arrows out or leave them in? Damage either way—

He reaches up and yanks out the one in his shoulder. He almost blacks out again when he removes the one in his chest.

Fuck.

The horse rides through the gates.

The sky is dark.

He drifts, sliding in the saddle, gripping the reins with the remainder of his strength to stay on.

Eventually, the horse stops.

Someone screams. 

_Buck_. He sees Buck.

He falls.

“Chim. Chim, no no no, stay with me, hey—”

There are hands on him. He thinks that’s probably a good thing.

“Buck…”

“Don’t try to talk, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay—”

“Have to…tell you…Kendall…Maddie…”

“Chim? Chim!”

He fades away.

_Maddie._

_Come back to me._


	7. Calder III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we earn our rating.

Buck feels like he’s underwater. Everything blurs in front of his eyes as people come around him and gently pull him away from Chim to take over and carry the knight inside. He doesn’t hear anything—everything is just white noise—and he’s just…floating. Not entirely in his body. 

He just—he doesn’t—he can’t—

His hands are covered in blood. Chim’s blood. 

He’s still kneeling in the courtyard, and he knows he should move, but he’s frozen, staring at his hands, at the blood on the stones paving the ground.

“Buck.” Eddie’s voice breaks through the fog in his head, and Buck inhales sharply when a hand falls to his shoulder. His chest hurts.

“Eddie, I—”

“Shh, come on. Come on.”

Buck allows Eddie to help him up, allows himself to be led, not quite paying attention to where they’re going. When they stop, he blinks and slowly comes back to himself.

The rooms are unfamiliar—Eddie’s, Buck realizes, instead of his own. He sits down heavily on a loveseat as Eddie disappears for a moment and comes back with a pitcher of water, a cloth, and a bowl. Eddie doesn’t say a word, just kneels down in front of Buck and wets the cloth before reaching for Buck’s hands. The blood comes off easily, but Buck still feels stained with it, still sees Chim bleeding in his arms when he closes his eyes. 

Buck could almost laugh—there’s one caught in the back of his throat, a little hysterical and wild. How much time has passed since they were kissing in the hall? Ten minutes? Thirty? An hour? They had _plans_ , Buck was drowning in anticipation, but then—

“Where’s Chim?” His voice is raw, wrecked. He barely even recognizes that it belongs to him. 

Eddie drags the cloth over Buck’s palm one more time before setting it aside and looking up at him. 

“They took him to one of the guest chambers. Michael—Athena’s husband—he’s a doctor, he’s with him.”

Buck gets briefly distracted— “Athena’s—?” _But Bobby and Athena are—?_

Eddie waves a hand. “It’s complicated.”

Huh. Okay then.

But, of course, that flicker of distraction doesn’t last and Buck’s throat closes up tight at his next question. He doesn’t know that he really wants to ask, doesn’t know if he really wants an answer. He needs one though.

“Was he—so he was still—”

Eddie’s thumbs press into Buck’s palms and work in small, soothing circles. It’s grounding, giving him something to focus on, and Buck shivers and slumps forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. 

“He was still alive,” Eddie says. “Unconscious, but alive.”

Buck swallows. “He was trying to tell me something—managed something about Kendall and my sister, but I don’t—I don’t know what—if he—if she—”

“You think something’s happened to her?”

“I got a letter from her when we first arrived here,” he admits. “She was congratulating us on the wedding, said she was leaving Kendall and going home. But Chim wouldn’t—he loves her, he wouldn’t have left her side unless there was something wrong, unless she made him. And he was attacked—I don’t—”

“Hey.” Eddie’s thumbs press harder into Buck’s palms. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

Buck takes a shaky breath, in and out. Eddie starts moving to get up, and Buck’s hands close around his, a noise of protest escaping before Buck can pull it back. 

Eddie stills. His eyes are gentle.

“You’re in shock,” he says quietly. “I was just going to get you something to drink.”

_You’re being ridiculous_ , Buck scolds himself and slowly releases his grip on Eddie’s hands. Eddie takes the bowl and pitcher away and comes back a minute later with a clean glass of water. He settles next to Buck on the loveseat and passes it over. Buck drains it in a few swallows.

He hadn’t realized how dry his mouth was before. It does, in fact, help him feel slightly more human.

“Michael’s a great doctor,” Eddie assures. With the limited space, his shoulder presses against Buck and Buck’s focus narrows to the point of contact, leaning into it gratefully. “If anyone here can help your friend, it’s him. And we’ll find out what happened to your sister. I promise.”

Buck’s eyes fall closed as he sighs. He rubs at his face—his fingertips touch the edge of his crown and he takes it off and sets it aside. It’s too heavy for how he feels now. He needs, in this moment, to not be a prince or the husband of a king, but just…Buck. Just Buck. 

He wonders if Eddie’s crown ever gets too heavy as well. 

“What do you need?” Eddie asks. His voice is even, gentle, soothing. Buck feels like he’s falling to pieces, but Eddie sounds perfectly composed. 

What does he need?

He needs to stop thinking. He needs to get out of his head, needs something to do with all the anxious energy inside of him that he can’t work out, needs to be distracted from Maddie and Chim and all the things he can’t fix right now because he isn’t a doctor or a magician or a seer of some kind. 

He needs—

Buck turns his head and catches Eddie’s mouth with his. Eddie kisses back for a moment—then pulls away.

“Are you sure you—”

“ _Please_ ,” Buck says. “I—distract me. That’s what I need.”

Eddie looks away, and Buck thinks he’s going to say no, to send him away and say that everything from earlier was just a mistake—

—but then, Eddie swears under his breath and turns back, his hand sliding around the back of Buck’s neck and pulling him in to kiss him hard.

Buck nearly cries with the relief of it, melting into the embrace, fisting his hands in the front of Eddie’s doublet and yanking them both to their feet. He doesn’t know what the layout is in the space, but Eddie get the picture, walking them back to another door as they trade kisses and opening it to push Buck back into the bedroom. 

Buck claws at Eddie’s clothes, wanting them off, wanting skin on skin—beyond that, he doesn’t know, doesn’t care, doesn’t want to have to think about it. He’ll take anything, everything, just wants to stop his mind from racing, to have something that will bolster him against the crushing panic threatening to unmake him.

Eddie grabs his hands gently, stilling them, and Buck bites back a sound of protest.

“Eddie—”

“Do you trust me?” Eddie asks quietly.

Buck swallows hard, his eyes sliding shut as Eddie’s thumbs stroke over his wrists.

“Yes. I—yes.”

Eddie leans in and steals another kiss, but doesn’t let it linger for long. 

“What do you want?”

“Everything.”

Eddie hums. He’s close enough that Buck can feel the vibration. 

“Strip for me. And get on the bed.”

Buck’s breath punches out of him as Eddie steps back and he only stays frozen for a moment before he races to comply, stripping off the doublet and shoving off his boots, pushing down his pants—

He’s vaguely aware of Eddie doing the same a few feet away, but he doesn’t stop and stare—well, at least not until he’s on the bed. And then he looks his fill, catching his lip between his teeth as his gaze drags over Eddie’s tanned skin, heat flooding through his veins. 

“Eddie…”

Eddie huffs a laugh and finishes stripping down, a light flush coloring his cheeks. Buck doesn’t know why—hell, Eddie has nothing to be embarrassed about—but then Eddie is crossing the room and kissing him again and Buck isn’t thinking about anything but feeling.

Eddie’s hands settle on either side of Buck’s head and he ducks his head to kiss Buck’s jaw, to nip at his neck. Buck sucks in a breath at the drag of teeth over sensitive skin, gets a hand into Eddie’s hair—Eddie takes it as encouragement and does it again, a little harder, and Buck arches underneath him. 

Eddie kisses all the way down his body—slow, lingering, his mouth everywhere. Buck feels almost…worshipped. But he’s not—he doesn’t think that Eddie—it’s just in his head, he’s pretty sure. His cock is aching against his thigh, desperate to be touched, and he whines as Eddie bites at his hip, so close but still not quite there. Buck tugs at Eddie’s hair unconsciously as Eddie’s tongue passes over the mark his teeth left on his hip—

“ _Eddie_ , please,” he begs, and Eddie glances up at him with dark eyes.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, one hand drifting down to stroke gently at Buck’s opposite hip. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

And then, he dips his head and takes Buck’s cock in his mouth and anything Buck may have said flies out of his head.

* * *

_Distract me_ , Buck said, and Eddie felt his gut twist like it had back in the hall when Buck mentioned he didn’t think they had anything else to talk about. 

Eddie doesn’t blame him for that—he knows what it’s like to feel like the world’s come crashing down on the top of you, understands the need to cling to something, to find a distraction. And sex is as good of one as any. 

So. Eddie can give him that. Can take Buck out of his head and wind him up until he’s too fucked out to panic. He can be what Buck needs. 

He just…wishes Buck meant it. Wishes Buck needed _him_ specifically. Because Eddie puts his mouth on every inch of Buck’s skin he can easily reach and feels like he’s flying a bright flag of how much he feels, like it’s bleeding out of him, and it’s—

He sucks Buck down in part to stop himself from saying anything he can’t take back, pulling back a little before he goes too far and chokes and wrapping his hand around the rest of Buck’s cock. It’s not something that he’s done before, but he knows what he likes himself—he tongues at the head and feels it twitch in response, sucks lightly and hears Buck swear. Buck releases Eddie’s hair and cups his cheek, his thumb stroking at the skin once, twice, before Eddie pulls off and licks down the shaft.

“Eddie—fuck—Eddie Eddie Eddie—god, fuck, I—”

The angle takes a little getting used to, but Eddie’s hand takes over, his wrist twisting on the upstroke. He glances up at Buck under his lashes—Buck’s flushed and panting, the blue of his eyes turned nearly black with desire. Eddie keeps his eyes on Buck’s as he sucks at the head again, humming when Buck moans. He takes him down further, pinning Buck’s hips with his forearm to keep him from thrusting up, and he shivers at the sounds Buck makes, wanting to hear more, wanting—

Buck yanks at Eddie’s hair, and Eddie pulls off in surprise, allows himself to be tugged back up Buck’s body. Buck kisses him desperately, his hands sliding down Eddie’s back, grinding up as their hips slot together and panting against Eddie’s mouth.

“Eddie—I—”

Eddie nips at Buck’s lip and rolls his hips. “Tell me.”

“Fuck me?”

Buck sounds wrecked already and it lights Eddie up like lightning. He kisses Buck again, licking inside his mouth, sucking on his tongue—it nearly kills him to pull back, and Buck whines in protest when he does, but it’s a necessary evil. Eddie pushes himself up and off the bed, grabbing a bottle of oil from the drawer of the vanity before returning. 

He kisses Buck one more time before he says—“Turn over.”

Buck complies eagerly, rolling onto his hands and knees. Eddie’s almost grateful that Buck is no longer looking at him when he takes the opportunity to press a kiss ever so lightly to the top of Buck’s spine. Buck shivers, so Eddie does it again, his mouth mapping Buck’s back, pausing over each dip and curve and vertebra.

Finally, when Buck is pressing back eagerly against him, silently asking for more, Eddie uncorks the oil and spills some into his hand. 

“Have you ever—?” Eddie asks as his thumb catches on Buck’s rim, not pressing inside, just circling at the skin. 

Buck looks back over his shoulder, a lazy, pleased smile on his lips. “A few times. Not—fuck yes—” He drops his head again when Eddie slowly works a slicked finger into him. “—not recently though.”

Eddie keeps going slow, figuring out what works and what doesn’t by the sounds Buck makes, the soft murmurs of encouragement, the way he shakes and shivers and rocks his hips back into the touch—first one finger, then a second, then, carefully, a third, scissoring them open. He curls them once and Buck’s entire body jerks, his cock leaking, his mouth falling open on a gasp. Eddie presses at the same spot again and gets a high whine in response, after which a series of inventive swears falls from Buck’s lips.

Part of Eddie wants to keep going, to make Buck come just like this, on his fingers. He’s far more interested in the idea of making Buck fall apart than the fact that he himself is blindingly hard and aching. But then Buck shifts, looking back at him again with desperate eyes—

“Eddie, please, I’m good, I’m ready, please please please just—”

—and what else can he do, really?

Eddie groans and withdraws his fingers, slicking his cock and then finally sinking inside. When he bottoms out, he can’t help but plaster himself against Buck’s back, dropping his head to the Buck’s shoulder, kissing his neck when he can’t quite reach his mouth. It’s been a long time since he’s been this close to someone and he’s overwhelmed by the heat and tight grip of Buck’s body, by the intimacy of connection. He has to take a moment to breathe and relax so that he doesn’t trigger his own release too soon—Buck asked for this, Buck wanted it, so Eddie’s damn well going to give him what he needs—but even so, he still reaches around to get a hand on Buck’s cock.

Eddie thrusts in slow at first, then gradually picks up speed. Both of them are sweat-slick and panting, the only sounds in the room their quiet gasps and moans and the sound of bodies coupling. It doesn’t last long—Buck spills into Eddie’s fist soon enough, shaking and swearing and shoving back onto Eddie’s cock, and Eddie follows not long after, giving into the feeling of Buck clenching around him. 

Buck makes a small noise of protest when Eddie withdraws, but Eddie only leaves for a moment to grab a cloth to clean them both up. After, he tosses it aside and collapses on the bed, pulling Buck in and kissing him again and again and again. 

God, he could spend an age kissing this man. He wants to. 

Buck, for his part, seems loose-limbed and relaxed, humming into Eddie’s kisses and twining around him, tangling their limbs until Eddie hardly knows how to extricate himself—not that he minds it. Eddie knows that it’s not—he knows it isn’t what it seems, that it doesn’t mean what he wishes it did, but for a few minutes at least, he can pretend. Pretend that Buck really does want him back, pretend that the world outside the room doesn’t exist, that there are no lingering fears or plots or political games to worry about. 

Pretend they’re just two newlyweds making love. 

It’s a nice fantasy.

“Thank you,” Buck says at one point—he’s half asleep, still twined around Eddie, and the words are muffled by Eddie’s neck—and it forces Eddie back to reality. 

He swallows hard and the circles he’s been tracing on Buck’s hip stutter before restarting. “You’re welcome. It’s—any time.”

Buck’s breathing evens out some time after that, but Eddie doesn’t close his eyes, staring up at the ceiling instead as his mind spirals through too many different threads of thought to really keep track. 

It takes him a long time to fall asleep.


	8. Calder IV

Buck wakes up slowly—he’s right on the cusp of being overly warm, but hasn’t quite crossed the line from comfortably cozy to uncomfortable, and he’s weighed down by something. When he stretches slightly, long unused muscles twinge and—

Oh.

—Buck cracks his eyes open. His vision is still a little blurry from sleep, but it’s clear enough to remind him that yes, he’s in Eddie’s room, in Eddie’s bed, tangled up in the man himself. One of Eddie’s arms is slung over Buck’s waist and his face is mashed into the pillow right next to Buck’s shoulder. 

Buck’s seen Eddie early in the morning before, on the ship on the journey to Calder, but he hasn’t had this opportunity before, the chance to just look. Eddie’s a good person, a good king, but in the daylight hours the title hangs around him like a visible weight as he tries constantly to learn more, to be better, to be a leader. Here, now, loose-limbed and asleep, he’s…softer somehow. Lighter. He’s just Eddie.

Buck shifts slightly and Eddie makes a soft noise of discontent, his arm tightening around Buck’s waist as he curls in closer. Buck freezes, flushing. It’s not real, he reminds himself. He would bet anything that Eddie hasn’t shared a bed with anyone since his wife died. And Eddie’s asleep. He’s not thinking about Buck, just…a warm body next to him. 

It’s not real. But Buck lets his eyes flutter closed and pretend for a little longer.

When he wakes up again, the light in the room has changed, the haze of dawn shifting to something brighter and more settled. Buck knows he should get up, that both of them should, but outside this room—once he’s up, once he leaves, then he has to think about the real world, about Maddie and Chim and everything else, and he wishes he didn’t have to. Eddie’s bed feels safe. _Eddie_ feels safe. 

He wants to stay suspended in this moment forever.

Buck opens his eyes again and reaches out—but he pauses before his hand makes contact with Eddie’s shoulder. He questions the intimacy of it, unsure if he can touch, if he’s allowed, or if the night before was just a one-night thing. Before he can make up his mind, Eddie sighs and stretches, bumping into Buck’s hand anyway. 

Eddie’s eyes flicker open, dark and sleepy and soft. Buck wets his lips.

“Morning,” he says quietly.

Eddie hums and leans in, his mouth feathering a kiss against Buck’s pulse point. Buck’s breath catches. 

“Morning,” Eddie replies when he pulls back. His voice is low and rough with sleep and Buck wants. 

“I, um—” Fuck, Buck wants to kiss him. Wants to pull Eddie on top of him and sink into the mattress, wants to get his hands on Eddie the way he neglected to the night before. 

Buck bites his lip. “Thank you,” is what he says instead of admitting to any of that. “For last night.”

Eddie looks away, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. There’s a flush creeping up his neck and Buck aches to lean in and show him he has absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” Eddie replies. “It, uh—it wasn’t exactly a hardship.”

Buck sits up as well, his chest tight. “Still—we’re—we’re good, right?”

_Please look at me_ , he thinks. Eddie blinks and does, his brow furrowed in confusion. He looks at Buck for a long moment and then leans forward, kissing him once, twice, light and reassuring. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, lingering close enough that it would be all too easy for Buck to close the gap again. “Of course we are. It was what you needed, right?”

“Yeah,” Buck acknowledges. “Yeah, but I still—”

_Want you anyway_.

Buck slides a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck to kiss him again—just on the chance he won’t get to again, he’s going to savor it. Eddie makes a muffled sound of surprise, but curls his fingers around Buck’s hip through the blankets, pulling him closer. Buck licks into Eddie’s mouth, sucks on his tongue, and Eddie groans quietly into his mouth and sinks down against the mattress, tugging Buck over him. 

Buck takes the opportunity to explore the way he hadn’t earlier, finally breaking the kiss to feather his lips across Eddie’s jaw, down his neck. 

“You know,” he murmurs, dragging his teeth over the tendon at the juncture of Eddie’s neck and shoulder as his hand dips down below the blankets. “I didn’t ask what you needed.”

Eddie hisses through his teeth, his eyes falling closed again as he tips his head back to give Buck better access. His hands slide down to fit around Buck’s hips and both of them shiver when it grinds their lower halves together.

“I didn’t—” Eddie’s breath catches. “I didn’t have any complaints. I—fuck. Buck—” 

Buck grins and takes the opportunity to suck a mark at the top of Eddie’s chest—Eddie arches up under him, grinding them together harder. Buck kisses him again, his hands sliding over Eddie’s body, exploring. 

It’s dirty and slow, neither of them trying to push for much more than that drag, the friction of rocking together as they kiss slick, needy, wanting. Buck’s whole body is flushed, his attention narrowing to every point of contact, everywhere Eddie’s hands touch. If he’d felt claimed the day before, he takes the chance to reciprocate—it doesn’t matter if it isn’t real, if it doesn’t actually mean anything, for at least a little while he can make Eddie his.

Eventually, Buck does reach between them, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks. It doesn’t take much before Eddie is panting into his mouth, before Buck is tensing and spilling slickly between them and Eddie follows swiftly behind. 

They’re both catching their breath, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Eddie?”

Eddie swears under his breath, his hands flexing hard on Buck’s hips. 

“What is it, Bobby?” He calls back. Buck rolls off of him, pulling the blankets up just in case Bobby comes in, but thankfully the door doesn’t open. 

“Our unexpected guest is awake. Hen and Athena are with him now—but I think you should join them. And Buck as well, although…we haven’t been able to find him.”

Buck bites his lip and stares up at the ceiling, his face on fire even as his gut fills with ice. Chim is awake, Chim is alive, and that’s a relief more than anything. But he’s been abruptly catapulted back to reality, the sanctuary of Eddie’s bed shattered. 

Eddie’s quiet for a brief moment before— “I’ll be right there. Don’t worry about Buck, I’ll—” He clears his throat. “—I’ll find him.” 

“…of course.”

They both listen as the footsteps sound away from the door. Eddie blows out a breath, glances over—

“You okay?”

Buck swallows and reaches out blindly, finding Eddie’s hand and tangling their fingers. 

“He’s alive. Whatever else—he’s alive and I can get answers. So at least there’s that.”

Eddie’s thumb drags gently over Buck’s knuckle. “Whatever’s going on, you’re not in it by yourself. Just remember that.”

“Yeah?” Buck has no reason to doubt it—he doesn’t think Eddie would say it if he didn’t mean it, but it’s still—

He’s not used to people having his back. 

Eddie’s lips quirk up even as he looks away so Buck can’t see his eyes. “What are friends for, right?”

…friends. Right. 

Buck forces a smile and slips his hand out of Eddie’s. “Right. Well. We should probably—”

“Yeah.”

* * *

There’s a door between Eddie’s bedroom and Buck’s—Eddie has never opened it, but he knows it’s there because Shannon used to sleep in those rooms sometimes if they were fighting, so he shows it to Buck to avoid either of them getting caught with Buck in his clothes from the night before. But when Buck disappears behind it, Eddie doesn’t start dressing immediately. He falls back on the bed again and rubs his hands over his face.

Fuck. He’s in so much trouble. 

The night before had been one thing, but he hadn’t expected—hadn’t considered the reality of waking up with Buck, how warm he would be, how responsive. He hadn’t expected that Buck would want more. But Eddie was hardly going to deny him anything. 

He might have slipped if Bobby hadn’t interrupted. Slipped and said more than he should. It’s better, really, that they were. 

Fuck. 

Eddie sighs heavily and closes his eyes for one more minute before he forces himself up to get ready for the day. At least if he’s focused on Buck’s injured friend he’s not thinking about the mess that is his personal life. And there’s plenty to be concerned about—the idea that someone close to Buck was attacked when coming to his kingdom, the fact that the man in question is apparently the personal guard to the princess who is nowhere to be found—yes, he’s concerned. He has plenty of questions and is more than ready for answers.

He cleans himself up and dresses quickly. When he’s ready, he glances at the door to Buck’s room, but doesn’t go through it, instead electing to go out to the hall and around to the main door. He knocks three times and then waits, leaning against the wall next to the door. When Buck finally emerges, he looks a little pale and worried, but far less so than the night before. He looks settled. 

They don’t say anything really as Eddie leads the way to the chambers where Chimney was taken, but Eddie can’t fully help himself from letting his arm brush against Buck’s, letting their fingers catch every once in awhile. 

When they get to the room—

Athena and Hen look up when they walk in. Chimney’s eyes are half-lidded, his torso wrapped in bandages. Hen looks stunned, Athena’s lips are pressed thin, her jaw set in a way that Eddie knows means that something is terribly wrong.

“Chim—” Buck crosses the room in just a few strides, dropping to one knee next to the bed, sliding one hand into his friend’s and gripping tightly.

“Your majesty,” Athena starts.

At the same time, Hen says— “Buck—”

“Wait,” Chim rasps, and both of them stop. “I need to—let me tell them. They’re going to have questions.”

“Yeah, damn right I have questions,” Buck says. “Questions like what are you doing here? Who attacked you? Where the hell is Maddie—?”

“In reverse order—Maddie’s in Aureum, I don’t know who attacked me, although I can guess who is responsible, and I’m here because—”

Chim meets Eddie’s eyes from across the room. “—because you and your son are in danger, your majesty.”

All the air seems to go out of the room. Eddie is vaguely aware of the shocked sound that escapes Buck, but he glances over to Athena—the stark line of her mouth gets even thinner, her face like stone as she nods once.

“There were some papers among his things that support his story,” she says. 

“I—I don’t understand,” Buck says. “What—who would—”

“Kendall,” Chim replies. “And—and your parents.”

Eddie’s head snaps back to the bed as Buck blanches. 

“ _What_?”

Chim tries to sit up further, only to wince and lay back down.

“The way I understand it, your parents plotted with Kendall to have Eddie killed so that you could rule Calder as his widower,” Hen fills in. “Maddie found out about Kendall and wanted to warn you, but when she tried to enlist your parents’ help, they confined her to her rooms under guard.”

“Maddie told me to go,” Chim says. “To warn you—I didn’t think I was followed, but someone must have known because I was attacked outside the city. Pretty sure it was to stop me.”

Buck sits back on his heels. “On our way here after the wedding—we were ambushed on the road—I thought—I thought it was highway robbers—”

“We’re pretty sure it was an assassination attempt,” Athena acknowledges. 

“Christopher.” Eddie finally finds his voice, although he still feels out of his body, hears it as though he’s far away. “You said—you said Christopher’s in danger too?”

Chim looks uncomfortable. “The Queen said something to Maddie—I don’t know much. But as far as I know, he is, yes.”

It feels like the floor drops out from under him. He thinks he might be sick.

“Eddie—” Buck chokes out his name, looking completely stricken. But Eddie can’t—he can’t—

He nearly trips stepping backwards, but ultimately catches himself and focuses enough to walk out. He reaches Christopher’s room before he even really recognizes he’s decided to go there, finding his son and Carla building a tower with wooden blocks.

Christopher looks up when the door opens and smiles brightly. “Dad! Are you coming to play with us?”

Carla’s eyes narrow in concern as she glances over him, and Eddie clears his throat and attempts to arrange his face into something that doesn’t reflect the icy panic that’s gripping his heart. 

“Sure, buddy,” he manages. “That sounds like fun. But how about a hug first, yeah?”

Christopher readily obliges when Eddie kneels down in front of him, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck. Eddie hugs his son tightly, pressing his lips to Christopher’s hair, breathing him in—

He meets Carla’s eyes over the top of Christopher’s head.

_What’s wrong?_ She mouths.

Eddie exhales shakily.

_Later_ , he replies.

Right now, he needs to just be with his son. Be with him and remind himself that like hell is anyone going to touch a hair on Christopher’s head. 

The rest—Buck, their marriage, Buck’s parents, fuck—he’s too overwhelmed to touch any of it. So.

Later. All of it can wait. At least for a little while.


	9. Calder V

Eddie walks out.

Eddie walks out and Buck scrambles to his feet, feeling desperate and clawed open. He had been waiting for the other shoe to drop—or really, a sword from above, the universe’s way of telling him to get fucked—but instead it’s apparently a knife to the back from his own family and he can’t—

_Eddie—_

“Buck.” Athena steps between him and the door, one of her hands stopping him in his tracks, gentle but firm against his chest.

“Athena, _please_ ,” Buck begs. The quiet thunk of the door closing behind her might as well be a cannon blast. “He has to know—I have to explain, I—”

_I didn’t do this, it wasn’t me, I didn’t know, I would never—_

“Give him a minute,” she replies. “An hour—just give him some time. Trust me, whatever you want to say, he already knows it.”

“I wasn’t involved in this I swear—I swear on my life, Athena—”

“Buck.” Her free hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “I know.”

“You do?”

Athena sighs. “Look, this whole arrangement has made me suspicious from the start, but you’re not that good of an actor, Buck. Even if you didn’t have two knights over there telling me the same thing, I would still believe you.”

Buck sags, a puppet with his strings cut—and that was what his parents were doing, weren’t they? Treating him like a puppet, a pawn, a damn fool, and he’ll be more upset about that later probably, but for the moment he just needs—

“Eddie doesn’t—”

“Eddie defended you to me before he even really knew you, before that ambush on the road. I guarantee you, Buck, he’s not assuming anything—hell, I would guess he’s probably not thinking about you at all right now.”

It helps a little bit. His pulse stops racing quite so fast, the tightness in his chest loosens from a vice with needles stabbing him with every breath to a dull ache. But Buck knows he’s not going to feel fully okay until he hears it from Eddie himself (and even then he expects some of it to linger because his _parents_ , God)— 

Buck swallows hard and nods. Pushes it aside, turns back to Hen and Chim.

“Start from the beginning,” he says. “And tell me everything.”

Because even if he didn’t make this mess, he’s damn well not going to let anything happen to Eddie or Christopher on his watch.

* * *

“Dad?” Christopher asks a few hours after Eddie arrives. “Is something wrong?”

The two of them are stretched out on the floor amid a veritable ocean of pillows that hadn’t proved sturdy enough to make a stable fort. Carla had left before they started making a mess, and Eddie fully expects some amused judgment when she returns—he knows he’s much more of a pushover where Christopher is concerned—so it’s just them curled up together the way the way they used to do more when Chris was even younger. He’s been trying hard to relax and not give anything away, but…Christopher is perceptive.

“Why do you think something is wrong?”

Chris fixes him with a look that is far more imperious and judgmental than someone of his age has any right to manage.

“It’s the middle of the day and you’re here,” he says. 

Eddie bites his cheek.

He doesn’t lie to Christopher, is the thing. He’s not going to say that everything is fine when it isn’t, because that’s not how they work, how their relationship works, especially not since Shannon died. And, he wants Christopher to be safe.

But does that mean spilling everything before he even really knows himself what’s going on? When he walked out of the room instead of strategizing or engaging or planning anything?

Eddie doesn’t think it does.

He stares up at the ceiling and hugs Chris tighter as he considers.

“Dad?” Chris prompts again.

“Well, uh—a friend of Buck’s arrived last night after you went to bed,” Eddie says finally, haltingly. “And when he got here he was hurt pretty bad—Michael had to patch him up. He’s going to be fine now, but he told me some things this morning that were a little scary and I haven’t figured out what to do about them yet.”

Christopher considers that, pulling his lower lip between his teeth.

“Are we in trouble?”

Eddie doesn’t lie to his kid. 

But he also doesn’t tell him everything.

“You trust me, right, buddy?” He asks quietly. “That I’ll tell you when it’s the right time?”

Chris nods. “I trust you.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Ever. Okay?” Eddie promises.

Christopher’s brow furrows. “But what about you?”

Eddie’s heart pangs. He kisses his son’s hair. 

“I won’t let anything happen to me either.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Of course, Chris is right—it is the middle of the day on a day that Eddie does have other things he should, and normally would be doing. He knows he’s missed a council meeting at least and goodness knows what else, but he doesn’t really care to think about that. Eventually though, that reality catches up with him.

When Carla returns, she’s accompanied by Athena, who is all smiles for Chris but fixes Eddie with a look of mild exasperation when Chris goes back to Carla and she’s able to pull him aside. 

“Hiding?”

“I just needed a minute,” he replies. 

“You all collected now and ready to join the rest of us, or should we keep talking without you?”

Eddie looks across the room as Christopher laughs at something Carla says. God, he doesn’t—he can’t just—

“I want a guard watching him,” Eddie says. “He knows there’s something up, but I don’t want it to be obvious or something that’s going to stress him out. He’s just a kid, he shouldn’t have to worry about shit like this. So…subtlety? If that’s possible around here?”

“Hen’s already outside,” Athena replies.

Eddie blinks. _Hen_? But—

Athena smiles wryly, clearly reading the question on his face. 

“That husband of yours is in a bit of a state over all of this. But his first priorities are you and Christopher—he said in no uncertain terms that Christopher’s safety was more important and asked her to watch him instead.”

That squeezes something in Eddie’s chest, the casual care of it, the anticipation of a need before Eddie even would have thought to ask. And maybe it’s not really such a sacrifice because Buck is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, he doesn’t really _need Hen_ —she’s Buck’s friend more than she’s his knight, really—but it still feels important. It matters.

It occurs to Eddie that maybe he should be more suspicious—Buck’s family is responsible for this after all, and if it all worked out as apparently intended, Buck would end up with everything—but Hen’s best friend was nearly killed trying to warn them and Buck—

Just as he had when Athena brought up her concerns on the road, Eddie thinks about the day they met, Buck shoving him in the training yard in Aureum, bitter and angry about the match, thinks about _it’s still a marriage_ and _I plan on respecting it_ , about _I pledge myself to you_ and Buck dancing with Christopher at the ball and kisses in the dark.

—no. Buck wouldn’t fake that. Eddie doesn’t think he even could. 

Athena had asked him then if he would trust Buck with his life, with Christopher’s life, and now that it isn’t just a hypothetical, the answer is, unequivocally…yes. 

Eddie wets his lips.

“I suppose I should go see him then.”

“He’s with Bobby in the council room,” Athena replies. 

“Well then…after you.”

* * *

Chim falls asleep once they’re all filled in to the best of his knowledge—while he’s going to recover, his injuries are still extensive and letting him rest is the best thing for them—and Buck goes to the council room with Bobby. He doesn’t know what should be done, has too many thoughts that all seem impulsive, reactionary, unhelpful. 

There are too many things going on, he’s being pulled in too many directions—he wants to be here with Eddie and Christopher, making sure they’re safe, seeing that for himself, and he wants to be in Aureum, helping Maddie and dealing with his parents in person, and part of him even wants to be in Kendall to arrest Doug, to throw him somewhere he won’t ever be heard from again. And he doesn’t know what’s right, what would be the most helpful.

He doesn’t know whether Eddie still really wants him here. Athena says Eddie trusts him, that Eddie wouldn’t blame him, but even if that’s true, there’s a difference between Eddie not blaming him and Eddie wanting him. 

“We have to see if we can find a way to get in touch with your sister,” Bobby says, bringing Buck’s attention back to him. “I know your friend said she wasn’t being given correspondence, but perhaps if you were to write to both her and your parents, be subtle enough that it doesn’t sound like you know what’s going on—?”

Buck runs his hands through his hair. 

“I can do that,” he acknowledges. “But I could also—I don’t know. Maybe things would be better if—maybe I should go back. Confront them in person. If there’s a way to fix this—”

“No.”

Buck freezes when Eddie interrupts from the doorway. Athena crosses the room and sits next to Bobby, but Buck barely notices, his eyes stuck on Eddie.

“No?” He asks.

Eddie clears his throat, shakes his head. “I—no, you’re not going back there. Not alone. If you want to help your sister, I understand that, we can do that, but…together.”

“You wouldn’t be in trouble right now if it wasn’t for me,” Buck argues. 

“I risked something like this happening the day I agreed to be king,” Eddie replies. “That’s not on you.” 

_Isn’t it?_ Bitterness rises up in his throat like poison, choking him. Not because of Eddie, but because of his parents, because of everything, the fact that he’s spent his whole life used for or because of his title, the fact that his parents could have done the same thing without involving him at all, but using him was the easiest path. He resents being in this position. 

“It’s my family. I should be the one to fix it,” Buck says. “It’s the least I can do.”

“And I’m saying you don’t have to. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Eddie—”

Bobby clears his throat, interrupting. “To go back to the earlier point, it seems we can at least agree on letters, yes?”

Buck nods. “Yes.”

“What else?”

“I don’t want a war,” Eddie says quietly. “I don’t—I just want Christopher to be safe. That’s all. So whatever we have to do to make that happen, I’ll do it.”

Bobby and Athena exchange a look. “Okay. Well…let’s figure that out.”

The problem is, all of the options suck. There’s no guarantee that sending Christopher somewhere else would be safer than having him with the rest of them. There’s no guarantee that even Buck going to Aureum would solve anything. They don’t know if there are already enemies inside the city, if there are other plans in place—ultimately, they spend another few hours going around in circles without coming to an agreement on anything besides Buck writing to his parents and Maddie. 

Bobby and Athena leave to track down an early dinner—they’ve all talked through lunch—and Buck is left alone in the council room with Eddie. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says quietly. Eddie’s looking out the window, gaze distant, lost in thought, but his attention snaps to Buck at that.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“It feels like I do.”

Eddie shakes his head. 

“They used you. They used both of us.” He sighs. “You know, I agreed to marry you because your parents threatened to start a war for that trade agreement if I didn’t. I knew something wasn’t right, I knew what kind of people they were going in. But you’re not them. I know that.”

Buck bites his lip, relief flooding through him. “You know—” He breaks off, the words catching in his throat. But it’s—it’s important. So, he forces himself to start over. “What I said in the ceremony yesterday—I meant it.”

_All that is mine to give, I offer freely if you would ask it._

_Please. Ask it._

Eddie looks at him for a long moment. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie looks away. He pushes off the wall next to the window and crosses the room. When he gets to Buck, he reaches out like he’s going to touch Buck’s arm, only to hesitate and close his fist.

“We’ll figure this out, Buck,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

Buck swallows. “I’m not. I—I know.”

“I’m going to get some air. I’ll—see you later?”

“Sure. Of course.”

Buck wants to talk more, has a million things trapped in the back of his throat. But Eddie had said _what are friends for_ that morning and even if this hasn’t ruined everything, that doesn’t mean that Eddie wants—

So. He lets Eddie go. And he goes to write a letter.


	10. Interlude III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Aureum...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been a month and this is a short chapter, but the good news is I have at least plotted out the rest of this now. I can't make any promises about the timing of future updates, but fingers crossed they won't take this long again.

After Howie leaves, once Maddie can breathe again, no longer thinking the worst, once she’s managed to at least take a step in the right direction, she starts to make plans. Shut up in her chambers, cut off from everything and everyone, the only thing she has to do is think—which is good. She’s happy to have the space if it allows her that. 

Her mother comes to see her a few days after Howie’s departure. And Maddie tries her best to seem docile, contrite, understanding. Inside, she’s seething—bitter and hurt and worried, hoping Howie got out safely, hoping that he made it to Calder, to Buck. But outside—

“I’ve had some time to think,” she says. “About what’s best for Aureum and for the family. And I’ve realized that I may have been too hasty when we first spoke about all of this. Buck _will_ be an excellent king, and he loves me. And as queen, whenever it is that I take the throne, I’ll need strong allies like Calder. So…I’d like to apologize for my overreaction upon my return. You’re right, of course. It’s unfortunate, perhaps, that it has to take violence, but—that’s just the way of things, I suppose.”

Her mother smiles. “I knew you would come around to our point of view,” she replies. “Unfortunately, there’s only so much one can do with diplomacy—you’re young, but you’ll learn.”

“Yes,” Maddie says. “Yes, I’m sure I will.”

It gets her some privileges—she gets to leave her chambers, for one. For another, she gets her mail. Oh, her mother reads it first, of course, and her responses as well, but at least she has some communication with the outside world. 

And then, she gets a raven from Buck.

_Maddie,_

_I was very happy to get your letter. I’m sorry you missed the wedding, but I’m glad that your time in Kendall was instructive._

_Calder is beautiful—I wish you could see it. Eddie and I get along very well. I think you would like him. We had some trouble on the road, highway robbers we think, but we made it through nonetheless._

_We’re well suited, he and I, and I love his son as well. I may have only been here for a few weeks, but I feel almost like he’s my own. I can’t imagine ever letting anything happen to him. To either of them._

_Maddie, I don’t know how to say this—Chim is dead. I’m not sure why he was coming to Calder, but he was attacked before he arrived. As soon as I saw him, he passed out and, unfortunately, despite the best efforts of our physicians, couldn’t be revived. I’m not sure what he was coming for, if you sent him with a message for me or if he was simply taking leave and hoping to spend some time with Hen, but the circumstances were unfortunate. My deepest condolences. I know you were close and I’m sorry he wasn’t able to make it back to you._

_If there’s anything you need, all you have to do is ask. I hope to see you again soon—perhaps you can visit us in Calder if you aren’t too worn out from your other travels. Give my regards to our parents._

_Love,_

_Buck_

“It’s too bad about your knight,” her mother says from across the table. “That level of loyalty is hard to come by. But it’s probably for the best—I would hate to have seen what might have happened if he’d spilled any secrets to the wrong ears.” 

Maddie schools her features. She swallows hard as she folds the letter and tucks it into her sleeve. 

“He was a good knight,” she replies. “But still just a knight. I can find another.”

It’s not until she gets back to her room that she lets herself take the letter out again. And then she smiles, muffles a laugh.

She can read between the lines even if her mother couldn’t—she and Buck know how to communicate and always have. Chim’s alive. He may have been hurt—she doesn’t think that was a lie—but she knows he’s alive. She knows their message got through. Whatever happens now, at least Buck knows.

_Dear Buck,_

_I’m glad to hear that you’ve settled into your new kingdom and that you and your husband get along well. I would love to meet him some day—hopefully, I’ll get the chance soon. I’m not sure that my visiting Calder is in the cards just yet. But perhaps the two of you can return for my own wedding. Nothing is set yet, but it seems inevitable that it’ll be sometime in the near future. And, of course, it wouldn’t be a wedding fit for a future queen if all of our surrounding kingdoms weren’t invited. I’m sure that mother will want to take care of all the invitations, but I wonder if it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to reach out as well. Give it a more personal touch. After all, at some point they should start getting to know me as a potential ruler rather than just the young princess. I’ll think on what might be suitable._

_You’re right, I am sorry to hear about Chim. We separated not long after our return to Aureum so he could take leave and I wasn’t sure of his plans. Please give my own condolences to Hen—he must have been going to see her. And my apologies to you as well. I’m sure it must have been quite a shock._

_I love you, Buck. And I only want what’s best for you. For both of us. You mentioned that all I had to do was ask if there was anything I needed from you—the reverse holds true as well. I will always be here. We’re family, after all._

_Much love,_

_Maddie_

“Mother,” she says as she passes over the letter for review before it can be sent. “If you think I should marry Kendall, I am willing to consider it more carefully. But as I mentioned in the letter, I’ve been wondering if I shouldn’t have a closer relationship with our allies. After all, most of them don’t know me very well, and it can only be an asset for our future growth—don’t you think?”

Her mother hums thoughtfully and reaches for the wax seal, sealing up the letter and passing it back, a tacit acknowledgment that it’s passed her standards. 

“You know, you may be right. I’ll consider what could be done about that.”

When Maddie smiles, it’s cold and sharp enough to cut. 

“Whatever you think is best, mother.”

Either way, she doesn’t plan on losing this fight.


	11. Calder VI

Buck writes to Maddie. Eddie talks with Bobby and Athena. Christopher stays in Calder.

And they don’t talk. At least, they don’t talk about the things that matter, which is driving Buck up the wall. They don’t talk about Buck spending the night in Eddie’s bed, about the pledging ceremony or the kisses that followed, about the fact that Buck feels guilty, responsible for the situation they’re currently in, with Eddie looking over his shoulder and Hen watching Christopher at all hours. They don’t talk.

Part of it is because Eddie’s busy, because the work of running a kingdom doesn’t stop just because someone is trying to kill you. But it’s also because Buck doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know if there’s anything _to_ say, really. All he can do is try to fix it. 

The letters he sends back and forth with Maddie are some of the only things keeping him somewhat together. They have to be careful what they say—he always chooses his words with caution, knowing the letters are also being read by others but it’s something. They have a plan building between the turns of phrases, the spills of ink, and it’s something to work towards at any rate. Something to do other than sit and stew and overthink. 

He writes to others too—kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, barons and viscounts. Friends. Allies. He’s not oblivious—he knows that his parents are not loved, not even necessarily well-liked. But he is. And Maddie certainly is. He doesn’t even spill the whole sordid plot, just plants seeds, rekindles connections.

He wants to make it right. He _will_ make it right.

Of course, the nights are the most difficult—Buck finds himself more often than not staring at the door that connects his rooms with Eddie’s, twisting his fingers in the sheets to stop himself from getting up and going through it. He thinks about Eddie’s hands and Eddie’s mouth, the scrape of stubble against his skin, and he wants to rewind back to their morning-after. He wants a do-over, a chance to say the things he wanted to before he stopped feeling like he could, to touch and explore and—

He wants all of that again. And maybe he could have it. Maybe Athena was right, and maybe Eddie really meant it when he said _you have nothing to be sorry for_. But he’s afraid to ask. 

He’s been rejected before. And for far less legitimate reasons than Eddie has. 

Buck tosses uncomfortably in his bed one final time before finally giving up and shoving the blankets away.

Late at night, he doesn’t expect anyone to be in the kitchens—sometimes, back in Aureum, he would sneak down there as well for a loaf of bread or a skin of wine when the rest of the castle was still and asleep, and only rarely came across anyone else—but, of course, he doesn’t have that kind of luck.

Buck stops in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the other side of the room where Eddie is stretched out on a bench, staring up at the ceiling, a cup in his hand where it dangles off the side. He looks distant, lost. At once too young and old far beyond his years. 

Buck thinks for a moment that he should go, but Eddie turns his head as he lifts the cup to his mouth again and sees him. 

“Hey,” Eddie greets quietly. He sits up and sets the cup on the table, rubbing his free hand over his face. “I didn’t think anyone else would be up.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Buck offers.

“Yeah. Me neither.”

Buck hesitates by the door for another moment before finally pushing off the frame and crossing the room. Eddie shifts on the bench in silent invitation and Buck sits down next to him.

“Something on your mind?” He asks.

“Besides the fact that people want me dead?” Eddie replies. Buck winces and Eddie shakes his head. “Sorry, that wasn’t meant as—as a dig at you or anything—”

“It’s okay,” Buck interrupts. “I didn’t think it was.”

“There’s a town several hours’ ride from here,” Eddie explains. “Apparently those storms last week caused the river to rise and there was some flooding and other damage—normally, I would go to visit myself, but with everything going on—I still think I should go with Bobby tomorrow, but I’m worried about leaving Christopher here alone. I know technically he isn’t. There’s Carla and Hen and Athena and you and a palace full of guards but it still feels that way.”

“For what it’s worth,” Buck says, “Maddie and I are working on a solution. We’re figuring it out, it’s—nothing’s going to happen to you. To either of you.”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care what happens to me. Well—I do a little, but only because I promised Chris that I wouldn’t let anything happen to either of us. But really—”

He shrugs and Buck fills in the blanks. “But really, if it came down to a choice between the two of you, you’d take anything before letting anyone touch him. I get it.”

“Sometimes it feels like the only thing I’ve ever done right—really right—is being his dad,” Eddie says. “But he’s at risk and it’s because of me, because of this stupid title, and I feel—maybe I shouldn’t say this out loud, but I would give it all up in a heartbeat if it would keep him safe. If I really thought it would make a difference, I’d write to your parents right now and say you could have it. The kingdom, the throne, all of it.” 

Buck’s heart breaks and for a moment the guilt is almost overwhelming.

“It wouldn’t. Make a difference. My parents…they’re not good enough people for that.”

Eddie reaches for the cup on the table and drains it. “I know.”

“For what it’s worth though—you’re the best dad,” Buck replies. “I know that, and Christopher knows that, and everyone else—you’re a great dad and that impulse—that nothing is more important than him, or that the power doesn’t make you better than anyone else—that makes you a great king as well. And I—I’m glad. That it was you I had to marry.”

Eddie looks at him for a long moment—

—then, he leans in and kisses him.

Buck freezes for a moment, his breath catching in surprise. But when Eddie starts to pull back, he snaps out of it, sliding a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck and returning the kiss. Eddie tastes like wine—it’s on his lips, his tongue—and Buck wonders how long he had been drinking alone before he arrived, but it’s only a fleeting thought. When Eddie’s hands slide under the hem of the tunic Buck had thrown on for bed, eagerly seeking out skin, everything else goes out of Buck’s head.

“I missed you,” Eddie breathes, pressing their foreheads together. “Fuck, I’ve—”

“I’ve been right here,” Buck replies, his heart leaping.

“No.” Eddie steals another kiss. “No, you’ve been avoiding me. Walking out of rooms when I come in. Looking at me when you think I can’t see like you’ve done something wrong—I told you I don’t blame you—but I didn’t know—didn’t know how to say—I thought you needed space, so—”

Buck swallows hard. “I didn’t think you wanted—” _Me._ “—I thought it would be easier. To give _you_ space. Until it was fixed.” 

“I didn’t know what _you_ wanted,” Eddie says. He does pull away then, like he’s shaking himself out of a daze or the trap of a spell. He rakes a hand through his hair and rubs at his eyes. “I feel like I’ve never really known—I’m not good at this. I thought at the pledging ceremony and the ball—it seemed like we were starting to be more than—more than friends—but then I thought maybe I was wrong, and—”

Buck takes a moment to parse the halting phrases, the uncertainty and insecurity that flashes across Eddie’s face. Hope rises in his chest and he tries not to let it run wild—he’s read things wrong before—but it sounds like—it really does sound like—

Maybe, what he needs to do is be brave. A terrifying thought, especially amidst so much of his own uncertainty about the current state of their lives, but perhaps true nonetheless. If Eddie’s saying what Buck thinks he’s saying…

“You weren’t wrong,” Buck manages. He grabs Eddie’s hand. “What I want—”

He takes a breath. Eddie is quiet and still, watching him carefully as Buck brings their hands to his lips just as he had during the pledging ceremony.

“You’re my husband,” Buck says finally. “And…I want you to _be_ my husband. In every way that entails.” 

Eddie leans in, bringing his free hand to Buck’s cheek. His thumb traces the line of the dark shadow Buck knows hangs under his eye from lack of sleep and Buck’s eyes fall closed. 

“Eddie—”

“Yes,” Eddie replies. He kisses Buck once, twice— “Yes, I want that too.”

“Really?”

“Really. I wanted to tell you after the ball, but—”

Buck kisses him again. It feels new, feels different. He doesn’t feel quite so desperate, like he has to chase it because every one might be the last. He can relax into it, press into Eddie without an edge.

“Come to bed with me,” Eddie says against his lips. 

Buck’s mouth quirks up and he tips his head to drag his teeth over Eddie’s pulse point. 

“Thought you said you couldn’t sleep,” he teases.

Eddie slides his fingers into Buck’s hair and tugs his head back up to kiss him again. His tongue steals into Buck’s mouth and Buck’s hands curve around Eddie’s hips, gripping tight and pulling him close. 

“Well, I was alone then,” Eddie replies. “And…”

He trails off, but the way his hands slide back under Buck’s tunic and drag along his waistband makes the implication clear enough. 

Buck laughs quietly, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. 

“Yes.” He pushes Eddie back lightly and stands up. “Come on.”

The halls are dark and quiet—the torches burn low in their sconces, providing very little light as the two of them make their ways back to Eddie’s chambers, occasionally stealing additional kisses in the shadows. 

As soon as the door of Eddie’s bedroom closes behind them, Eddie pushes Buck’s tunic up and off. Buck does the same before pressing Eddie back against the wall and dropping to his knees. He’s so much less frantic than the last time they did this and he wants to take his time, wants to explore, wants to get his mouth on every inch of Eddie’s body. And Eddie doesn’t seem to mind at all, his fingers combing through the short strands of Buck’s hair as Buck’s tongue traces the muscle definition on Eddie’s abdomen. 

Buck takes his time, both before and after he finally shoves Eddie’s pants down, teasing until Eddie’s head falls back and he starts swearing under his breath and murmuring praises in turn. Buck shivers when Eddie finally yanks him to his feet and licks into his mouth, tasting himself on Buck’s tongue.

And then, Buck pulls Eddie back to the bed and—

They don’t sleep for a long while. 

In the morning, as dawn light filters through the windows, Eddie kisses him awake softly and slowly. Buck hums and kisses back, even as he struggles to open his eyes. When he finally blinks the sleep from his eyes, he makes a small sound of discontent at the realization that Eddie’s already dressed.

“I have to go,” Eddie says quietly. “I’ll be back tonight, as soon as I can. You’ll look after Christopher?”

“Of course I will,” Buck replies. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”

Eddie flashes him a small smile and leaves him in bed with one final kiss.

Several hours later, Buck and Chris are in Buck’s chambers playing knights before dinner. Buck’s sword is sheathed in the corner out of direct line of sight—Hen has been there most of the time, but Buck still wants to be armed himself as well. She’s just stepped out for a few minutes when Buck hears a crash from somewhere in the distance. 

He freezes, listening hard. But he hears nothing else but silence. Slowly, he gets up and crosses to the door, peeking outside. The hall is quiet, yes, and empty. Unsettlingly so for the time of day. A chill steals into Buck’s chest and he closes the door carefully to make sure it doesn’t make a sound. 

He swallows hard and makes sure his face is blank before he turns around. 

“Hey, Chris, buddy—we’re going to play a different game, okay?” He opens the door to his bedroom and then the door to the hallway that connects his bedroom to Eddie’s. “I need you to go in here and be very, very quiet. And you can’t come out until I tell you to or your dad comes back. Can you do that for me?”

Christopher’s smile drops and he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “Buck…do I hafta be scared?”

_I don’t know_ , Buck thinks. 

“I’m going to take care of you,” he replies instead. “Do you trust me?”

Chris nods. “Yes.”

Buck kneels down and kisses the top of his head. Then, he helps Chris into the hall and pushes a bookcase in front of it to hide the door. He’s just finished when he hears a shout that cuts off abruptly. Taking a steadying breath, he grabs his sword and sheathes a dagger in his belt for good measure.

He steps into the hall just in time to see a cloaked figure cleaning a bloody knife.

“Who the hell are you?” He asks.

The hood falls back—the man underneath raises an eyebrow, his lips curling in irritation. 

“I’m not here for you, Buckley. Just tell me where the little prince is and I’ll be on my way.”

“There’s no way that’s happening,” Buck shoots back. 

“Well then…I suppose we’ll just have to do this the hard way.” The man nods once, and Buck’s eyes narrow—he turns quickly but doesn’t get his sword up quite fast enough to block a blow to the head from a second cloaked man. 

“Buck!” 

Hen shouting is the last thing he hears before the world goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you yell at me for the cliffhanger, please scroll up and remember that these boys were very soft this chapter lol.


	12. Calder VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so close to the end, y'all!

For all that Eddie is loathe to leave the castle—to leave his bed, really—he finds it at least somewhat easier knowing the full extent of what he has to come home to. He lingers in the doorway for several moments even after he says he has to go, watching Buck drift back to sleep in his bed and trying to capture the image in his mind. 

It’s strange. Eddie feels like he’s caught in a dream when he thinks back to the night before, to kissing Buck again, to _I want you to be my husband_ , to everything that followed. He’s used to things in his personal life not working the way he hopes they will, used to his assumptions being proven right. But Buck wants him. Really wants him. And everything else, they’ll figure it out.

“You seem happier today,” Bobby acknowledges a few minutes into their ride out from the castle. 

Eddie looks over and flushes at the small smile on Bobby’s lips and the knowing look in his eye. 

“I talked to Buck,” he says, since _I slept with my husband again last night_ seems like too much information. “We’re, uh, going to make a real go at it. At us.”

“I assumed that was already decided after the ball,” Bobby replies. “Given that he spent the night with you. But, I’m glad. Love is a good look on you.”

“Do you think it’s too fast?” Eddie asks after a brief moment of hesitation. _Love_ is…a big word, not that he’s denying it. It’s only that with Shannon, it took time—they were kids when they met and the world around them was falling apart and it made sense to cling to the possibility of something good. With Buck, everything has been backwards, no time wasted on the awkward dance of courtship as the two of them were thrown into something new, something permanent. But still, all his earlier protestations aside, he feels like it’s…good. Right. Buck fits, fills the spaces Shannon left behind and even others that Eddie hadn’t realized were still hollow. 

And Eddie is so tired of being alone.

Bobby looks at him for a long moment, thoughtful and considering. “I don’t think love has limits that way,” he says quietly. “Some people fall in love over years, others in hours—and at the end of the day, does it matter? You’re already married. What’s the harm?” 

“I guess there isn’t any,” Eddie replies. “I’m just…”

Waiting for the other shoe to drop? If there’s something beyond the fact that their entire relationship was designed to culminate in his assassination, which…admittedly is not a small thing as it is, not that it changes how he feels or how he believes Buck feels. 

Waiting to wake up? Waiting for something to happen to tell him _you can’t keep him, you never could_?

“You get to be happy, Eddie,” Bobby says. “You _deserve_ to be happy. I know it’s hard to trust it—god knows it took me ages with Athena to get that through my head—but you should.” 

“I’m not very good at this,” Eddie admits. “I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to make him happy.”

And it’s the truth—one he’s avoided giving too much time and attention because it’s uncomfortable. Because there’s a piece of him, a not insignificant piece, that has always wondered if he and Shannon would have been happy if he hadn’t become king. That wonders if it was ever really _him_ or _them_ that made her happy, or if it was just being queen that she loved. As much as he loved her, after the war it always seemed like they worked better as king and queen rather than as husband and wife and he doesn’t—the last thing he wants is to repeat that with Buck. 

“Have you tried asking?” Bobby laughs softly when Eddie presses his lips together. “I didn’t think so. I think you should start with that. You can get pretty far with honesty, you know.”

Eddie laughs despite himself. _I want you to be my husband. In every way that entails._ “Yeah—yeah, okay. You’re right, I should try it.”

They make good time to the village. When they ride into the main square, an old man with a walking stick and a shock of grey hair hobbles out of what appears to be a trading post. 

“Your majesty,” he greets, a puzzled look on his face. “I—were we expecting you?”

Bobby swings down off of his horse. “We heard you had some damage from the recent storms. A letter was sent asking for assistance with repair efforts?”

“I’m the leader of the town council,” the man replies. “We had some damage, yes, but it was minor—nothing we weren’t able to repair easily enough. I’m not aware of any letter…”

Eddie goes cold as Bobby looks back at him. “Who was the letter from, Bobby?” He asks.

“A Mr. Randall?”

“I’m Harrison Randall,” the other man says. “But I haven’t written to the palace in months. The council was planning to make a journey there next month to discuss preparations for winter.”

So someone faked a letter to get him away from the castle for several hours, away from Buck, away from Christopher—

_Trap, trap, trap, it’s a trap—_

His breath catches. Behind them, the rest of the men they’ve brought along exchange glances. 

“I have to go,” he chokes out. “I have to get back—immediately—I—I’m sorry, I—”

“Your majesty!” Bobby calls after him as Eddie turns his horse and digs his heels in. He’s only vaguely aware of Bobby behind him directing some of the men to stay behind, the wind whipping against his face as he gallops away with his heart in his throat. 

“Eddie!” Eddie doesn’t know how much time passes before Bobby is pulling up beside him again, doesn’t know how much scenery has passed—not enough. 

“They’re going to kill my son, Bobby.” The words taste like poison on his tongue. “They knew we would leave, they knew we would take guards with us, they knew—they wanted—”

“He’s with Buck,” Bobby reminds him. “Buck and Hen and Athena and all the rest of the guards in the keep. They will keep him safe.”

“Bobby—”

“I know you’re scared.” Bobby’s voice is level even as his jaw is tight. “But we’ve already ridden for hours today. The horses can’t keep up this pace long enough to get back there as quickly as I’m sure you want to. There’s no magic arrow here. We’ll get there when we get there, but if we push too hard, we might not get back today at all.”

Eddie feels like there’s a scream caught behind his teeth, something stabbing in his lungs—

—but he pulls back on the reins and slows. 

“He’s my son,” he says quietly. “And I promised. I promised him that nothing would happen to him.”

“And nothing will,” Bobby replies. “Nothing will.”

Eddie’s heart doesn’t stop racing the whole time it takes them to get back to the castle. His neck hurts, his shoulders ache from the tension he’s carrying, and as they ride through the gates, the sun not quite to setting but low in the sky, the streets seem oddly quiet. When they ride into the courtyard, there are guards passed out by the doors—alive, Eddie realizes when he races over and presses his finger to one’s pulse, but clearly heavily asleep.

“Drugged?” He looks over to Bobby. Bobby’s face is drawn, his hand on the hilt of his sword. 

“Someone must have gotten into the kitchens at midday.”

Eddie swallows hard and draws his own sword. “I’m going to find Christopher.”

“Eddie—”

“I can do that at least, Bobby,” Eddie replies. He doesn’t wait for a response before he pushes through the doors. 

It’s just as eerily quiet inside, at least until he starts making his way up the stairs—he sees a guard on the staircase with his throat slashed just before he hears a commotion down the hall at the top of the flight.

“Buck!” _Hen._

Eddie takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches the landing. When the scene comes into view, he sees Hen locking swords with a cloaked assailant, a second bending over Buck on the ground. 

“Get away from him,” he shouts. The man looks up, grins—

“Well, isn’t this convenient. I thought I would just get to kill one bird today, but here you are your _majesty_. I told Kendall that was the way to do it—much more convenient.”

“I saw the guards—I hope you enjoyed that, because you’re not killing anyone else today,” Eddie replies. His gaze flicks down to Buck quickly—there’s a smear of blood on his temple that makes Eddie’s chest twist—but he looks back up just as fast. He can’t focus on that right now, can’t think that he might have just gotten what he wanted the night before only to have it ripped away in mere hours, because that would be—

“How do you know it was just the guards?” The man taunts. “I came here to kill the prince. And I’m very good at my job.”

Eddie’s jaw tics as his fingers curl tighter around the hilt of his sword. 

“No,” he says. “Because if you’d succeeded, you wouldn’t still be here. And—” Eddie nods at Buck on the ground— “You wouldn’t have hurt him.”

Behind them, Hen kicks out and the man she’s fighting stumbles enough for her to slice his gut with a dagger and sweep his legs out from under him. The sudden change in atmosphere makes the other man tense, then his mouth twists and he lunges at Eddie. Swords clash, Eddie blocks a dagger strike and twists out of the way—he’s tired from a day of travel and anxiety and it makes him a little slower than he might otherwise be, but he’s pissed enough to make up for it, catching the man in his chest and shoving him back to fall on Hen’s sword. 

The bell sounds in the tower, echoing through the palace and the castle yard—Bobby, Eddie imagines, ringing the alarm. The man Hen had been fighting earlier is still alive, groaning and bleeding on the ground. The other’s eyes are open wide, but blank, blood on his lips as he stares into nothingness, dead. 

Hen turns back to the one that’s alive. “How many more of you are there?” She demands, and Eddie turns his attention to Buck. His mind pulls in too many directions, the itch under his skin to find Christopher despite his worry for his husband too much to ignore, to he brushes his lips across Buck’s forehead after making sure he’s still breathing, that his pulse is still beating strong, and then pushes himself to his feet.

“Chris? Christopher?” Eddie calls, pushing open the door to Buck’s rooms. He doesn’t know for sure where his son might be—he’s small enough that he could hide anywhere, and Eddie tries to think of that as a positive thing under the circumstances—but when he calls out again as he reaches the bedroom, he hears a small thump behind the bookcase.

“Dad?” Christopher calls back, and Eddie shoves the bookcase out of the way and opens the door to the corridor, dropping to his knees—or maybe they just give out—and pulling his son into his arms the second he lays eyes on him.

“I’m right here,” Eddie says, kissing Christopher’s hair. “I’m right here, you’re safe, I’m here.”

“Dad—what happened to Buck? I heard shouting—”

Eddie swallows hard and hugs him tighter, closing his eyes. “He’s going to be fine, buddy. He’s going to be fine.”

If he says it enough, hopefully it’ll be true.

* * *

Buck wakes up—the room is blurry and his head is pounding, but he wakes up. There’s a weight on one side of his chest—when he manages to crane his neck to look, he realizes that Christopher is fast asleep, curled up next to him and using him as a pillow. Eddie is stretched out across a sofa pulled up next to the side of the bed, his fingers twined through Buck’s closest hand, also asleep. 

Buck watches him for a moment, then squeezes Eddie’s hand gently. Eddie’s brow furrows, he tenses—his eyes flutter open, he sees Buck, and he relaxes again.

“You’re awake,” he says quietly.

“You’re back,” Buck replies. “I don’t—what happened? My head hurts.”

“Probably because an assassin knocked you upside it pretty good.”

Buck looks back to Christopher again. “He’s okay though? Hen, you—all of you, you—?”

“We got them. The two in the hall and then the rest around the castle,” Eddie assures. “And yes—Chris is fine. Worried about you though—so was I, for that matter.”

Buck closes his eyes again and lets his head fall back against the pillow even as he picks up their hands and pulls them to his lips.

“Well, I promised, didn’t I?” He replies. “That I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”

“I know,” Eddie says. There’s a pause, and Buck thinks he might start to drift, the ache in his head dimming to a low throb, but then—

“I love you.”

Buck nearly chokes on air, forcing his eyes back open.

“What?”

Eddie’s thumb passes over his knuckles before he leans in and steals a kiss.

“I love you,” he repeats. “I told myself I would say it if you woke up, because I was worried you wouldn’t. So. That’s me. Saying it.”

“How long was I…?” 

“Two days or so?” Eddie shrugs and glances away, a flush high in his cheeks. “I just—I thought—”

“I love you, too,” Buck interrupts, wanting more than anything to take that edge of uncertainty out of the planes of Eddie’s face, the slump of his shoulders. 

Eddie’s throat works.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Eddie kisses him again, and Buck’s heart pangs at the look of cautious hope that flickers over his face.

“You should—um—you should rest,” he says. “More, I mean. You should rest.”

Buck’s lips quirk up and he closes his eyes again, squeezing Eddie’s hand. 

“I’ll still mean it when I wake up again, you know.”

“Uh huh. Well…I’ll hold you to that then.”

“You should.”

Eddie laughs softly. Fingers brush over Buck’s hair.

And he drifts.


	13. Interlude IV/Calder VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions and Reckonings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, folks! I can't even believe it! There will be a Buddie-centric epilogue after this, but other than that, it's been a great time. I have never actually finished a multi-chapter this long when writing alone, so this was a very new experience in that sense, and I really appreciate all the love you've all shown this fic. <3

There’s a plan. A plan that Maddie’s been working on for weeks, meeting with other royals under the guise of shoring up old alliances and assembling a future wedding party. She knows exactly which of their allies have too much honor to do anything but find what her parents have done completely unacceptable, which wouldn’t mind the specifics but would take offense to the fact that their plot was so easily uncovered, and those which have no opinion on assassinations but dislike her parents for other reasons.

There’s a plan. A plan for her to plant seeds about the plot and bring their allies to her side—which she’s done—and then to invite them all to Aureum for the wedding and reveal the whole plot in the middle of the ceremony so no one can get away and Doug can be arrested in full view of everyone. A plan that changes abruptly in the middle of breakfast one morning when her mother suddenly gasps and goes stark white on the opposite end of the table.

“What is it?” Maddie asks. “What’s wrong?”

“My dear?” Her father asks as well, leaning in to take the letter she had been reading before her outburst. He also goes pale and the letter flutters to the floor.

“Father?” 

He stares off blankly into the distance for a moment before clearing his throat.

“From King Diaz,” he explains evenly. “Your brother is dead. Killed in an attack on the castle by…by assassins looking for the young prince.” 

He looks down at the stack of unopened correspondence next to his wife’s plate and picks up the top letter. “This appears to be for you—from Knight Wilson—I—I imagine she wished to write to you herself since you’ve never met the king.”

He passes it over without opening it and Maddie takes it with numb fingers. For the first time she can recall, her parents look genuinely at a loss. 

“Excuse me,” her mother says, pushing her chair back and sweeping out of the room. Her father follows after, and then Maddie is left alone. 

She crosses the room and picks up Eddie’s letter first—it says exactly what her father said, with some additional details about setting a funeral date and how he would like them all to come to Calder for it. She puts the letter down and opens Hen’s—

Except it’s not from Hen. 

Oh, certainly, it’s signed with her name. And the envelope is addressed with her handwriting. But the letter itself is all Buck’s familiar scrawl.

Maddie lets out a laugh that’s half a sob, relief flooding through her as she swipes at her eyes. 

There’s still a plan, as it turns out. But a funeral is just as good as a wedding. 

With her parents preoccupied, Maddie goes to the guest chambers.

Prince Josh is closer to her age than Buck’s, and after it became clear they were never going to be a marriage match, it was easier to strike up a fast friendship. He’s perhaps the closest friend she has in the neighboring kingdoms—

—and his visit couldn’t have been more timely. 

“Maddie,” Josh says when he opens the door at her knock, face pale and drawn. “I heard—is it true? About Buck? I—I’m so sorry—”

“We need to talk,” she replies. “I have a lot that I need to tell you. And then I’m going to need your help.”

His brow furrows. “Anything. Whatever you need.”

The door closes behind them. Maddie takes a breath.

And then she starts from the beginning.

* * *

It takes three weeks for all of them to finally get to Calder—two for preparations and an additional one for travel. Josh comes with the family, ostensibly as a fellow royal and friend wanting to pay his respects and convey sympathies to the king on behalf of his own kingdom, but Maddie knows better. And Doug is there as well, wanting to appear to be seen as a dutiful, doting betrothed. Maddie knows better about that as well—he’s twitchy and uncomfortable, suspicious and unsure, and she doesn’t trust him not to either try and finish what he started or split as soon as he gets indisputable confirmation that Buck is, in fact, dead. For her part, Maddie isn’t planning on letting either of those things happen.

Her parents are…quiet. Withdrawn. Maddie doesn’t believe that there’s enough true love in them for it to be guilt over Buck. Regret that they didn’t think this might happen, perhaps. Regret that they didn’t think through their own strategy sufficiently and needlessly lost a prime pawn in their game as a result. But not guilt. Not grief. They would have to love their children more for that to be the case.

But, they put on a good act. There’s a certain solemnity in the air when their party rides through the gates of Calder. 

“Your majesties, Princess,” Bobby Nash greets quietly as they dismount. “The king is in the throne room. I can take you there if you would like. And of course, we’ll see to your things.”

“When can we see our son?” Maddie’s mother asks. 

“Soon,” Bobby assures, and Maddie bites her lip hard to hold back a laugh. At her side, Josh pinches her arm—she swats back at him gently and gets herself under control. 

She knows what’s coming, but her parents don’t. They step through the throne room doors and stop dead in their tracks.

Up on the dais, Eddie sits on his throne stone-faced and still. At his side, Buck sits on his own throne, bedecked in Calder colors, his eyes sharp and dark.

And around the room are nobles of many of the surrounding kingdoms, including Josh’s parents, who had gladly offered their support after being informed of the situation.

“What is this?” Her mother says, tensing as she looks at Buck. “What’s happening here?”

“It’s a tribunal, your _majesty_ ,” Eddie replies. The doors close behind them.

“For what purpose?”

“To discuss the assassination attempts on myself and my son, ordered by you and your husband and organized by the Duke of Kendall.”

“Well, that’s nonsense—you have no right—no proof—” Her father starts, only for Buck to interrupt. His voice is quiet, steady, but it carries nonetheless.

“We do, in fact,” he says. “Letters, witness testimony, even a confession from one of the assassins who infiltrated this very castle and has been in the dungeons since that failed attempt on the prince’s life. We will present all of it in front of this most esteemed company—although, you could spare us that trouble by confessing here and now if you wished—and then at the end, you will have two choices. You can step down voluntarily and allow Maddie to assume the throne before exiling yourselves somewhere of your choice, or you can refuse, this information will be made even more public than this, and you’ll be escorted back to Aureum by an army, after which you will be forced to abdicate and exiled somewhere we choose. But either way, so we’re clear, the two of you are no longer the king and queen of Aureum.”

They share a glance, and Maddie lets her smile break through. Her mother looks like she’s smelled something foul, clearly trying to think through what option will allow her the greatest amount of dignity.

“I would just confess, if I were you,” Maddie says. “Save us all some time.”

“It was all Kendall,” her mother replies, her voice carrying through the chamber as she turns on the duke. “It was his idea, his plans, we knew nothing until after the fact—”

“Lies,” Doug hisses. “You told me if I helped you kill the king and guarantee the line of succession in your favor, my marriage to your daughter would be assured. I—”

He freezes at the gasps and whispers that run through the nobles, clearly not having intended to have let the cat out of the bag quite so quickly. He turns toward the door and swallows hard finding his way blocked by two guards. But before anyone can move, he grabs Maddie by the wrist and spins her into him, pressing his forearm to her throat.

“Let me go or I’ll snap her neck right here,” he threatens.

Maddie chokes at the pressure, a momentary panic flooding through her veins. But then, through the crowd, she catches a pair of familiar eyes—

_Howie._

—and she scrambles for the knife hidden in her skirts—the knife he gave her _just in case I’m not always there to protect you, Princess_ —and stabs back blindly, jamming it into Doug’s side. He shouts in pain and releases her, and Josh pulls Maddie to a safe distance as the guards close in.

She straightens her spine, rolls her shoulders back—it hurts a little to swallow, but she manages—and then, she turns cool, narrowed eyes on her parents and glances back over the crowd as if to say _see?_

“Well,” she says. “Shall we begin, then?”

They do. It goes quickly, an open-and-shut case. And then it’s done and her parents are escorted to rooms under guard and Howie is still standing, alive and well on the other side of the room as the buzz of conversation begins, and she knew that, she did, but seeing it—

Her mother’s voice in her head says _running is unbecoming of a queen_ , but then, her mother would probably say the same about kissing knights.

And Maddie intends to do quite a lot of that.

She doesn’t care who is watching when she twines her arms behind Howie’s neck and captures his mouth with hers. If she had been afraid earlier, even for a moment, now her bones, her blood, her entire self, is practically singing with _alive_ and _safe_ and _home_.

“You came back to me,” Maddie breathes when she pulls back, resting her forehead against his.

“I promised I would,” Howie replies just as quietly, his hand coming up to brush her cheek.

“Marry me,” she says. 

He inhales sharply. “Princess—”

“ _Queen_ ,” she interrupts, and kisses him again. 

“Queen,” she repeats. “And I say that means I can marry whoever I wish. Including you. That is…if you’ll have me.”

Howie laughs, soft and disbelieving. “It’s not even a question.”

“Is that a yes then?”

“Yes.”

And Maddie laughs. And she loves, she loves, she loves.


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A honeymoon in winter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I love you all. Hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Some softness for your final chapter...

_Four months later, Calder Estate_

Buck is freezing. 

It’s winter, so this isn’t especially a surprise, and he imagines if he were to open his eyes, he would see the fire burned out. He also knows that there is a small mountain of extra furs and feather-stuffed blankets in the cabinet across the room, but of course reaching them would require relinquishing what warmth he does still have. 

He makes a noise of discontent and burrows deeper into his blankets, rolling over to seek out his husband—

—only to realize the other side of the bed is empty, the sheets cool to the touch. 

Buck huffs and forces his eyes open, blinking blearily as he scans the room. As expected, it is empty, and the fire is out. From the moonlight filtering through the window, it’s still the middle of the night.

There is one clue to Eddie’s whereabouts, however. The door to the next room is cracked and dim candlelight spills through the opening. Without another thought, Buck slips out of bed, wincing as his bare feet hit the cold floor, tugging a blanket off the bed and wrapping it around himself before going on a search. 

Sure enough, when he opens to door, Eddie is at a desk in the corner of the room, scribbling something absently as he pores over a letter. He doesn’t appear to have bothered with many more additional layers than he’d gone to bed in himself, clad in soft pants and a thin nightshirt that does little to hide anything when, as now, the laces are undone to leave it open at the chest.

“You know,” Buck says as he leans against the door frame, “I seem to recall that when you said we should go to your estate in the mountains in the middle of winter for our honeymoon, that involved a certain amount of promising to keep me warm if I agreed to it. I also seem to recall that we agreed to no work.”

Eddie looks up and smiles, setting the quill down and rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. 

“I woke up and wanted to check on Chris,” he says as Buck steps further into the room. “And then I remembered Bobby sent a letter about the Oxfield ambassador’s visit and I thought—”

He cuts himself off when Buck slides into his lap. When Buck gets his cold hands under the hem of his husband’s shirt, Eddie jerks and swears at the contact before laughing.

“It’s not even that cold—how are you freezing?” He teases, nipping at Buck’s neck in retaliation.

“Just because _you_ run like a stove doesn’t mean the rest of us normal people do,” Buck replies, although he tips his head back, exposing his neck further in silent invitation. “It didn’t get this cold in Aureum, I’m _adjusting_.” 

“Or it’s your convenient excuse to keep getting me back into bed.” Eddie takes the hint and trails kisses from Buck’s jaw to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, hands falling to Buck’s hips to settle him more comfortably in his lap. 

“Well…that might be part of it,” Buck acknowledges as his eyes flutter closed. His pulse kicks up and his blood warms as he presses closer to Eddie, his fingers teasing along the waistband of Eddie’s pants. “Is it working now?”

Eddie hums, turning his head to catch Buck’s mouth with his own. Eddie kisses him lazy and unhurried, his own hands refusing to wander, although his thumbs press circles into Buck’s hipbones. Buck sighs into it, shivers at the gentle drag of teeth over his lower lip, at the ways Eddie’s tongue steals into his mouth and curls around his own. 

They’ve had time over the past several months—after their confessions, after the tribunal, after all of the cleanup that was required as a result—they’ve had time for slow. For exploration. For hours of nothing but holding one another or kissing or murmuring secrets in the dark. They’ve had time to figure out what _love_ means without a veil of panic or doubt or desperation over it. And Buck—

He thinks back sometimes to their first week, to all the miscommunications and misunderstandings and resentment, and he almost has to laugh because he never expected then that they would have ended up where they are now. But he’s so damn grateful they did. 

Buck reluctantly withdraws one of his hands in favor of curling his fingers into Eddie’s hair and pulling him back. 

“Take me back to bed,” he orders quietly.

Eddie smiles. “Because you’re still cold?”

Buck shakes his head. “Because I love you. And I want to go back to sleep with my husband next to me.”

Eddie kisses him once more and nods. “Alright, you win. The letter can wait.”

And with his victory secured, Buck leans over and blows out the candle.


End file.
